Alternate Realities: The Dark Teacher
by Ehren Hatten
Summary: FMA/HP So what would the world be like with Tom as the Dark Arts teacher and he had never killed James and Lily Potter, but no one knows who he is because no one who knew him as Voldemort knows him as Tom? Chapter Eleven up!
1. Chapter One

_**A/N: this is out of my desire to get Tom to play around a bit because I adore him so much. XD**_

_**Alternate Realities:  
**__**The Dark Teacher**_

_**Chapter One**_

The little baby in the baby carrier cried. She couldn't have been more than a year or so old. Two Deatheaters on either side of her had already run off as a very tall and thin man walked closer. His head was covered by a hood, but he had bright red snake like eyes and slits for a nose, his skin white like the snake around his neck. He eyed the little child in a very bored fashion, wondering if he shouldn't just leave and let the damned parents deal with her so he could be on his way to the baby that mattered most to him.

The parents lay on the ground on their faces, both blonde though the man looked annoyingly like his old Alchemy professor who he would have rather faced having a root canal than deal with that man once more. It would have given him a certain amount of sick pleasure to kill the man outright, given the resemblance, but he was short on time. Perhaps the man was the good professor's son. Well, that would definitely give him a certain amount of amusement, but they didn't move and he needed to. At least if he was his son, that man laying face down was taller than that damned Alchemy teacher of his could ever hope to be.

He started to walk off when he heard a strange sound. He looked around and saw none of his deatheaters around, but that little rodent Wormtail was nearby and skittering back to hide. He looked up in the air. Two very heavy doors like those he would expect were in heaven came down and stopped above the little blonde baby who had stopped screaming and crying. She was oddly silent as the doors hovered above her. Perhaps she was more interesting after all.

The doors creaked and cracked open, darkness greeting his eyes as they slowly revealed nothing but blackness beyond their borders. He raised his wand and waited for any form of attack. He did not trust these doors, for they seemed oddly familiar to him. Eyes appeared in the black, all blinking at him before several hundred smiles grinned out from the black. Hundreds of black hands reached out and grabbed a hold of him, pulling him in through the doors. He let out a cry of surprise as he fought at the hands, but he could not loose them. As he watched the world he knew disappear, as the doors closed, he saw that baby one last time and cursed the day he ever ran into her.

It was like no pain he had ever known. All the parts he had thought he had locked safely away inside things he could keep safe hovered in front of him. Each part was damaged in some way, looking like shards of a mirror. He was no where and everywhere as he stared at them all around him and laughed. He laughed because the pain was only just beginning. He could see the parts of him and already the pain he had never thought possible was starting. Then, the shards flew at him. He curled up and screamed in agony as each one forced itself into him. The screams didn't go beyond those borders, however. No, he simply took it again and again until all six melded with him, each one more excruciating than the last.

Then, everything went still. The place was white and he stood before the doors and stared up at them. He had forgotten what his purpose was. He had forgotten who he was. Why had he come there? Why was he standing there with nothing more to do than stare at a pair of doors that meant nothing to him? It all confused him. He felt old, very old and dirty. But for all the confusion he felt and the old ache in his body, he felt as though he was needed at those doors for a reason. Perhaps this was supposed to be his hell, for he could find no other reason for his standing there than that.

* * *

Amber Elric played with her toy wrench as she sat on her grandma Winry's lap. She was a pretty little girl. She was so very small that her parents had once worried she would not live long, but then they remembered that being small ran in her genes. Her grandfather stood not far off and worked on something he seemed to deem important. He was a handsome man, a very handsome man indeed. Back when he was a kid, one could have called him pretty. His eyes were gold and his hair was blonde and long, his cheekbone high and his jaw squared. Now, his appearance was older, his jaw more square than it had when he was a kid, his cheekbones standing out a bit more, his glasses perched on his nose in the same way his father used to wear them. The only difference between him and his father were his bangs. He had always kept his hair long and long bangs to frame his face with. These same traits had been passed onto his sons and now his granddaughter Amber was beginning to show the same traits as he.

Edward Elric had once been a great Alchemist for the military, but that was in another world and he was here in this one. He had once thought that his alchemy was not to be used in that world anymore, but he soon realized he simply had the wrong way round of working it. This world was far more different in the way one could perform alchemy than it was in his own. He had realized this when he had found himself in Scotland and realized that there was a school for children who could do magic, something he had never previously believed in until then. The headmaster had taken him in and the transfiguration teacher at the time had showed him the ropes of the world. He had told them that he and his brother were alchemists and so they took him in to teach the same art. He had then realized why it did not work the way he had thought before.

Back in Germany, Edward had made a connection to his old world and that was why he could make his alchemy work. Now that he was cut off from it and the people, or rather, person, he loved, he had not tried to figure out any longer how to work the alchemy he had loved. Inside that strange school, however, he had learned something important about that world. Science and magic work together, but the magic has to come from within rather than pulling it from the world itself such as he did in his own world. The equivalent exchange came from nature, but the power to work it was in his own spirit and his own blood.

Edward jerked forward as Amber's toy wrench hit his head. Winry giggled faintly and patted Amber on her head as the little girl grinned up at him playfully. Edward grunted and rubbed his head with his prosthetic hand. "She's getting better at that. What're you teaching her?"

"How to keep an annoying man in line," said Winry, smirking faintly at Edward.

He grunted and went back to his work. Winry had been a miracle to get through to this world, though not so much because it was difficult or near impossible. Apparently, there was some sort of vortex back when he had arrived that was linked right directly with Armestris inside the school he had not know could even exist. When Winry came through, several others came through as well. Ghosts of the dead he had thought were just going to disappear seemed to come through and those who remained alive still came out as well, even his old superior officer Colonel Roy Mustang, who, when he arrived, seemed to think Professor Dumbledore was a quack when he saw him. That man then seemed to find it necessary to tell Edward's sons every little thing that would embarrass him every chance he got.

Now, Roy was dead. He had died in the fight against You-Know-Who when he had attempted to stop him from getting near Edward's son and granddaughter. She had only been a year or so old at the time, but she was not You-Know-Who's target at the time. In fact, he might not have even cared had it not been for the fact that Edward's son and granddaughter both looked like him. You-Know-Who had a grudge against Edward from when he was the man's Alchemy Professor, but it was a mild grudge. At best, he probably would have preferred dealing Edward a blow to him alone and not his children. Edward had asked who had seen the fight and Roy's ghost had told him that Edward's son came upon the Dark Lord when he was trying to get to the temporary home they had made in Godric's Hollow before it got too dark. Edward's son Hughes had told the Order of the Phoenix that he and his family would stay there to keep an eye out for Lord Voldemort and he himself would go out to warn the Potters that they needed to leave. Unfortunately, Lord Voldemort had figured out that the Potters were the ones he wanted to deal with and not the Longbottoms on a hunch a year early. Their son was only a few months old and Lily and James did not realize that that night would mark a strange point in their lives.

No, they did not die, that was the funny thing. The truly strange thing that had occurred was that Hughes and his wife both were attacked as Roy had tried to turn the attack away from them. Apparently, Voldemort had not been trying to kill them, which was odd. The Deatheaters, instead, came up behind him and killed both parents and then Voldemort killed Roy because he had attempted the same toward him. The Deatheaters then left and went to clear the way for Voldemort to the house of the Potters, but the doors of Truth had come down above his granddaughter, sucked in Voldemort and then disappeared.

Now, a year later, Edward was taking care of his granddaughter with his wife Winry and she seemed to be as happy as ever. Her eyes were the same gold color as his and her hair was a little redder than his, but still quite lovely. Dumbledore stood off to the side as he looked out the window. "It has been a year since that night, Edward," he said softly. "Tell me, does the gate of truth come down like that normally?"

"No." Edward wasn't looking at him anymore. He simply looked away as he rubbed the metal tendons of his prosthetic arm.

"And yet it came down to collect him," said Dumbledore idly as he gazed out the window. "I have a feeling—"

Winry's shriek of fright alerted both older men to what was happening. Winry was standing and holding little Amber in her arms, a real wrench in her hand and ready to throw it or beat whatever was attacking her and Amber to a pulp. Two golden doors appeared in the air and opened slowly, a black mass coming out of them and slithering onto the floor as if vomiting something from its insides. Then, the black pulled away to reveal an older man curled up like a child on the floor, seemingly dead. His cheeks were gaunt and he needed a good shave, for he had a graying beard started on his handsome features. His short black hair was shaggy looking and graying in places and his normally tall form was thinner than it should have been. However, there was no mistaking the person before all of them as the doors closed with an evil chuckle and disappeared.

Edward was the first to move, running over with his metal arm ready to beat the offending skull in if the man wasn't already dead. Dumbledore, however, caught a hold of him as Winry watched from afar with a mixed feeling in her blue eyes. "No, leave him, Edward," said Dumbledore softly. Edward grunted and pulled his wrist away from Dumbledore and moved back as Dumbledore walked toward the body of the man he had grown to hate the most, Tom Marvolo Riddle.

Tom didn't seem to move. In fact, Edward was certain he didn't see him even breathe. Then, after a moment of silence, a small, child-like whimper came out of that body. Dumbledore placed a hand on Tom's thin shoulder and Tom cried out, causing Amber to start crying. Tom curled up more and covered his head, crying like one would expect a scared child to do. Dumbledore tried to touch him again, but Tom didn't do anything this time except continue crying and whining. Edward had a strange feeling inside him as he stared at this man before him. He hated him and wanted to see him dead and yet he looked so sad and pathetic that Edward felt a bit sorry for him. It didn't stop him from wanting to kill him, but it did keep him at bay for the time being.

Dumbledore called in Severus Snape, one of Lord Voldemort's former spies and a double agent for Dumbledore, to help him lift Tom up and take him to the infirmary. The way he was so curled up, it would have been difficult to use a spell on him and he might do something to hurt others or hurt himself if they tried it. So, instead, they worked together to get the man into the infirmary and lay him down for Madame Pomfrey to deal with. She dealt with him for the most part, but told them that mostly what he needed was some good food and water and lots of rest. She had said that he looked as though he had not slept in ages and it may have affected his mind.

Edward had a retort for that, but he kept it to himself in lieu of just getting away from the poor bastard before he changed his mind and tried to kill him. He watched as Dumbledore spoke to Snape in hushed tones, reassuring tones.

"You can't keep him here, you have to get rid of him," said Snape in a much more heated tone than he normally used. "Have you forgotten why it was we were trying to rid the world of his influence before?"

"Do not talk to me in such tones, Severus," said Dumbledore softly, "I am not daft, nor have I forgotten." He looked away for a moment before looking back to Snape and Edward with those clear blue eyes of his. "I believe that Truth had something to do with this and that Tom has suffered for his crimes a lot more than you may think. In order to look the way he does now, he would have had to endure the joining of the pieces of his soul. In order for that to occur, he would have had to be feeling either truly sorry for what he has done or Truth may have forced it upon him. That not withstanding, the joining alone would have killed him anyway and he's not dead."

Edward hated it when Dumbledore spoke sense. It killed part of his anger and irritation and formed worse, pity for that which had caused him the greatest grief he had ever felt aside from losing his mother and brother and father each. Alphonse seemed to materialize from the shadows and grab a hold onto Edward's shoulder. Both men, despite being older than dirt, had managed to retain a certain amount of their good looks in their advanced age. That was the most interesting part of living among all these magic people; none of them aged the same way as normal every day humans. At the age of fifty or so, Tom looked like he might just be turning forty or still be in his late thirties. Dumbledore was over a hundred and still as sprightly as a younger man. Minerva McGonagall was in her sixties or so and she looked similar to Tom, still no more than possibly forty or a little over. Being inside the school, no living inside the school and having a father that could possibly be said to be made of magic himself, had given both Edward and Alphonse a sort of advantage in their looks.

"What was it you found, Ed?" asked Alphonse quietly. "I heard a very loud sound and something inside me seemed to freeze. Was it the gates?"

Edward nodded and watched Dumbledore carefully. "So what would you have us do then, sir?" asked Edward.

Dumbledore looked to him and smiled faintly. "Wait and see what he does. If I'm wrong, we'll give him to Azkaban, but if I'm right and the ordeal has left him in a much better fashion, then I think I have a small plan forming."

Once more, Edward wondered if Dumbledore wasn't dafter than he thought, but he trusted his judgment and said no more. This was going to be a long week.

* * *

Snape frowned as he glared at the doors to the infirmary. That man, that thing, was still inside and recovering. If he simply came in with a poison disguised as a helpful potion, it would rid them all of one big problem. One nagging thought kept him from doing this and that was the thought that perhaps Dumbledore was right and perhaps this man had changed for the better from whatever had been done to him in that place.

"Who is standing out there?"

The voice was fuller, not high and cold like and whispery as the one he had become so accustomed to. True, his voice was higher than most men his height, but it was a pleasant tone that would make anyone trust him to be a good man. The accent was a strict one, a cultured tone meant to make himself sound far more than he really was. He did not sound like a man that Dumbledore and Edward had both said had grown up in a London orphanage and playing with broken toys for most of his young life. This was the sound of a man who most likely knew his voice alone would make people believe in him.

Snape opened the door and walked in slowly, closing the door behind him. Tom's eyes were closed as he lay on his back. "Who is it?" he said, uncaring how loud or soft he was. He sounded somewhat bored, really. "If you don't speak up, I will ask Madame Pomfrey to usher you out."

"An old comrade," said Snape softly, watching Tom with a mixture of fear and loathing. "Or don't you recognize my voice?"

"Oh, I recognize your voice, Severus, but your person is a bit hunched over as if you're afraid," said Tom. How could he seem him without his eyes being open?! It was then Tom turned slightly and opened his eyes. They were the same bright red with slits for pupils that he had learned to fear when he was a spy for him.

Snape straightened up stiffly and clasped his hands together, staring into those eyes with some fear coursing through him. After a moment, those red eyes seemed to bleed out with dark blue and Tom then looked normal. True, one could describe his strange blue eyes as holes in his head, but they were not as unnerving as seeing those red eyes of his once more when he had thought them gone from his life forever.

"What is it you wish to pry from my brain, Severus?" asked Tom in a rather bored tone.

"I was simply looking at the door when you asked who was there, that is all," said Snape, attempting to put up all the walls he had become so accustomed to using when the Dark Lord was there.

Tom smirked faintly and sat up slowly, grunting in pain for a moment before dropping back into the bed. Snape, for once, smirked at the plight of this man who had once frightened him beyond anything. He was once more human, normal, though one could suppose you could not call Tom Marvolo Riddle absolutely normal. "Having a bit of trouble?" said Snape lightly. He walked closer toward Tom and stopped when the man glared up at him with those red eyes once more.

"Mocking me so soon, Severus? If I had my wand on me right now I could make you cry and scream without a care, so don't patronize me," said Tom, snarling slightly as he bit out the last words.

Snape moved back a little more to keep his distance from the now human Dark Lord. "Why have you come back and how?"

"As if I know anything, Severus." Tom grunted and lifted a thin, long fingered hand up to rub his gaunt face.

Snape narrowed his eyes at his former "master" and smirked faintly. "Well, it seems you have been able to gain the sympathy of Professor Dumbledore, but not I or even, indeed, the Elric brothers. We are watching you, 'my lord', do remember that and the Elric brothers won't hesitate to use the fact that you are very weak right now against you."

Tom flicked his eyes toward Snape and Snape had to back away a little more. It felt as though the man were attempting to see into his head like he usually did, but he didn't have his wand with him to do that with. However, just the calm and quiet murderous look that Tom was giving him was one that struck a chord of fear in his heart still. Severus straightened up after a moment stood his ground, gazing at Tom with the same cold scrutiny he gave practically everyone else. "You have no power here now, 'my lord'," he said softly, "Don't think you can get away with everything this time."

With that, Snape left and left Tom to lay in his borrowed bed as weak as a small boy. He could barely lift himself up without difficulty and the greasy haired bastard seemed to find it amusing. Now that Tom thought of it, it really wasn't any wonder he was so amused by Tom's plight, given how often he seemed to enjoy picking at the bastard for being his little spy, but he could show a little sympathy for his fellow wizard. Well, at least one thing was for certain, Tom was not very worried about the lot of them getting together and killing him anymore. What he had endured for what felt like an eternity was hell enough that death seemed like a peaceful vacation.

He was about to fall asleep when he heard the door open and felt the presence of a woman, older than him and small. He glanced over and saw Winry Elric standing there, her face older than the last time he had seen it when he was going to the school, but still as pretty as she was when she was young. Her big blue eyes glittered with angry tears and in one hand she clutched a wrench and the other she held up a little blonde haired girl. "If you're planning on killing me, I won't stop you nor would I blame you," he said softly as he looked away.

"You killed one of my sons and his wife, orphaned my granddaughter and then some how you disappeared because of her," she said as she moved closer. She opened her mouth a couple times to speak and stopped herself, unable to voice whatever was on her mind or in her heart. "Because of you, you have ruined the lives of many, destroyed the loves of many and all you can do is lay there."

"If you want a monster to slay, he's laying right here, madam. I said I won't stop you, so why not just relieve your pain upon my person." Tom was getting irritated now. Was she simply going to lecture him instead of just offing him without a second thought?

Pain coursed through his head as a heavy and metallic object was thrown at him with some forced and collided with his skull. He rolled his eyes back into his head for a moment as he tried to make sense of what had just happened, his eyes only seeing stars and his head whirling like one of those children's rides at a carnival. He struggled to move, but found himself unable until he simply fell out of the bed with a loud THUMP on the ground.

The child started crying as Winry gathered her up into her arms. Tom struggled to his knees and then to his feet until he fell back onto the bed. Madame Pomfrey ran out and went over to his side as Winry looked on with those big blue eyes of hers. "Winry, you should know not to hit a patient when he is so weak!"

Winry nodded and looked away. "I'm sorry, Madame Pomfrey," she said softly before she walked out with the little girl.

Tom looked up at Madame Pomfrey and just stared at her for a moment. The witch stopped her fussing about his person before looking to him and moving back slightly. "Just because you're an outright bastard doesn't mean I won't take care of you so long as you are in my care. I'm a nurse and I will uphold that," she said. Then, she leaned in and glared at him. "But don't you think for one moment you are going to get anything better from me or any sympathy for you should you harm yourself, or do something stupid that hurts someone else." Then, she spun on her heel and went back to the small office she stayed in at the back of the infirmary.


	2. Chapter Two

_**A/N: aaaaaaaaaaaaand so I get back into Tom, because Tom is love and so is Tom as a teacher and I want to see how this goes. XD His duration in the rpg was short lived. TT**_

_**Chapter Two**_

A knock at the doors of Hogwarts alerted Minerva McGonagall to the arrival of a person. She opened them and found Mad-Eye Moody standing there with his face scarred almost beyond comprehension and his overly large blue eye rolling around in his head as he searched around for anything out of the ordinary. McGonagall nodded toward him and allowed him inside before shutting the large doors and locking them back up.

"Where is he?" he asked his voice gruff and sharp as he spoke.

McGonagall nodded to him and started walking. "This way, Alastor," she said. Moody followed her through the various hallways and corridors until they arrived upon a small room near Ravenclaw's stairwell. She opened the room and inside were Albus Dumbledore and Severus Snape as well as a tall, thin man sitting in a chair with his arms strapped to it with rope. He looked oddly familiar, what with the rather imperious look in his dark blue eyes and the slight smirk that presented itself to him on his gaunt face.

"Alastor," said Dumbledore, smiling faintly toward Moody, "I would like to welcome you, though indeed these are not the most ideal circumstances."

"Not ideal, my ass," he muttered and eyed the man in the chair through one narrowed eye as the other eye moved around the room and then finally focused on him. "Is this the man you wanted me to see?"

"Fine thing for you to come, Mad-Eye," said the man, his voice cultured and even, almost cold in its tone. He yawned and leaned his head back. "Why must you lot insist upon waking me up in the middle of the blessed night for these interviews?"

"Shut up or I'll give you a nice bout of hives," said Moody gruffly, "Not to mention killing you later if you are who I think you are."

"Oh, do just get on with it," drawled the man, looking incredibly tired and very bored. "Death threats here and irritating illness threats there; it's all getting very tedious."

Moody shot a nice bolt of electricity from his wand into the man which made the man jump against his restraints for a moment before eyeing Moody coldly. "Now that I have your attention," said Moody as he moved closer. "Albus, shouldn't we have some veritaserum to use on him? It would be nice and easy to get information from him."

"But it wouldn't be ethical, would it?" said the man, smirking faintly at Moody. "Oh do please stop giving me that look; there's little you can do to me that hasn't been done to me before I even showed up here."

Moody growled low in his throat as Snape moved closer toward the man and seemed to "accidentally" hit him with his hand as he brought it up to his mouth. "Oh, dear," he said unconvincing in his innocent act.

"Are you Lord Voldemort?" asked Moody. "Did you wreak havoc across the world in an effort for wizards to be the superior race in it and wipe out muggle borns and muggles?"

"I think you know the answer to that, Alastor Moody," said the man softly.

"Is your name Tom Marvolo Riddle?"

"Yes, of course it is." Tom rolled his eyes and leaned his head back once more in a very bored move. "I'm sorry, but why am I being questioned when I already know who I am and what I am? Is this a test to see how stupid I have become since coming out of those blasted doors?"

"Doors?" Moody looked from McGonagall, to Snape and then to Dumbledore carefully. It had been rumored that Voldemort had disappeared through a set of doors in the air.

"The gate of truth, Alastor," said Dumbledore softly as he flicked his gaze toward the old auror. "The gate of truth came down and Truth took him into it and forced him to join with the other pieces of his soul."

Moody was now very interested in what was going on. "Why have you brought me out here, Albus? You wouldn't have had me come out here unless it was to strike a deal regarding him and I don't see why you would strike a deal for him."

"He isn't what he used to be, Alastor," said Dumbledore as he moved toward the old auror. He put his arm around Alastor for a moment and directed him away out the door so that Tom could not listen in. However, Tom could hear every word that was being said as though it were being whispered through a bull horn. "He showed remorse. In order to join with his split soul, he would have had to have shown some amount of remorse and endured a pain so great that even death would have been welcome before being set in front of those doors to endure a long wait. That is what I have gathered from both Edward and Alphonse about what lies behind the doors and from what Tom has said he endured."

Moody grunted and looked a little like Dumbledore had taken away from him a grand toy to play with. Dumbledore smiled faintly and patted Moody on his shoulder before nodding toward the room where Tom sat listening to little more than what was being said in the quiet school. "So what would you have me do about it? Why tell me this? Why not let me deal with him for a little while before I hand him over to the minister and then to the dementors?"

"I have a better plan of action, but I need you, old friend, to do something for me in the ministry of magic," said Dumbledore.

Tom had trouble listening to the rest of the conversation as he noticed both McGonagall and Snape seemed to be eyeing each other oddly. The older woman had been a beauty in the past and Tom had at one time fancied her as a child, but grew out of it quickly when she went on to be other things. He even seemed to recall her being a chaser for a quidditch team, though it was only a vague memory. Snape, however, was an easy person to tell what he had done, for Tom himself had forced him to do many things in the name of Lord Voldemort. He was a sullen man, bitter and cynical at practically everything around him, but he had a love for that Lily Potter that baffled and sometimes irritated Tom. However, what he saw now was a man staring at the all great and powerful Minerva McGonagall with an oddly mixed expression.

Tom leaned closer toward Snape, the chair creaking slightly as he moved. "If you want, you can just leave me alone and you can go woo her if you want. I'd say she's still a nice catch just for how clever she is," said Tom, smirking at Snape as he turned sharply toward Tom and glared at him. However, there was a faint touch of pink in the man's sallow cheeks.

McGonagall also seemed to blush very faintly, though she stiffened a little in her posture, folding her hands neatly in front of her. Tom always did like her taste in clothing. She always seemed to enjoy wearing more school marmish type of clothing, almost Victorian with the high black collar and the poofy skirt, the slim sleeves conforming to her arms and ending with quaint little black ruffles at the cuffs. She wasn't wearing the green robe she usually wore over it all, but that was fine. Everything about her person was very groomed and clean and crisp, just the way he felt everyone should dress. He hated sloppiness and took great pains to keep himself immaculately dressed and cleaned.

Moody and Dumbledore walked in once more and Moody looked a little like he had had the greatest gift ever known to man dangled in front of him on a string before watching it drop into a pit where several thousands of tons of stone were dropped on it with a sickening crunch. "Very well," he muttered to Dumbledore, continuing that sour look toward Tom, "I'll tell them right away you've got a new teacher." Then, he glared at Tom before walking out.

Tom raised an eyebrow and looked around. "Pardon? What am I missing?"

Snape looked to Dumbledore with some anger. "He is going to be what?"

Dumbledore lifted his hands and gestured for both men to silence and calm themselves. "I have discussed it with Moody and we have decided that to better judge how to handle this unique situation I should keep a better eye on Tom. To do that, I have decided he should remain at Hogwarts as part of the staff."

"Are you insane? Letting him have control by any amount is a death knell to all of us!" snarled Snape as he moved closer toward Dumbledore. When Dumbledore fixed Snape with a very penetrating look, Snape backed off slightly and forced himself to calm down.

"I am aware of the consequences, Severus, I do not need you to tell them to me," said Dumbledore softly. "I am also aware of something else that I doubt even dear Tom has noticed, but I can not say it or he might try to emulate it."

"Master of disguise, that would be me," said Tom.

Snape glared coolly at Tom for a moment before moving toward him. "You are entirely too talkative, Riddle, for what you are enduring now?"

"I told you before, Severus," said Tom in a silky tone, "kill me if you want. Death is a vacation to what I've endured."

"I doubt you would be so keen had you known what sort of death would await you," said Snape, leaning closer. "A dementor coming up and administering the kiss? Oh, you would be cowering."

Tom eyed Snape through his lashes coolly, gazing at him with little care. "Do you know what it's like to be stuck in a place where the only way out is a set of mythical doors?" he asked, leaning up a little more to hiss at Snape in a hushed tone. "Have you ever felt what it's like to have your own soul joined together and force itself upon you with the greatest amount of hatred and self loathing possible reverberating throughout your entire body? Would you like to know? It's like a thousand shards of glass stabbing into your flesh over and over again before you're healed and the process starts over. It repeats itself each time until all the pieces are back inside you and all you feel is empty and afraid. Every part of you is back together and all you can see around you is white except a pair of doors. All you know is that at some point those doors are supposed to open for you, but they never do and all you're left with is starvation and no sleep. Oh, you can't sleep or eat at all, but you never die, Severus. Think about that before you think killing me or having the dementors suck out my soul will scare me."

Snape was white as a sheet as he backed away from Tom, visibly shaken by the description. Dumbledore closed his eyes and nodded slowly. "As I suspected. You never cared much about others before, Thomas, but now you don't even care about yourself. That sort of change is why I feel sending you away or killing you will do little good. So I have decided to make you a teacher here in Hogwarts in a position that only you can ever fill ever again. One you have seen to it that no one else will ever truly fill."

Tom turned sharply toward Dumbledore and widened his eyes in surprise. Snape recoiled in revulsion as McGonagall watched Tom through narrowed eyes. "I will be the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor?"

"Yes, for now you will," said Dumbledore softly, "But you will be monitored by every teacher here as to what you do in your class and how you conduct yourself and how you care for your students. This isn't freedom to do as you please, Thomas, this is simply a trial to see if this is the right course of action. If I am given reason to have them take you away, I will allow the ministry to do so, understood?"

Tom eyed Dumbledore warily. "You aren't setting me up to be some form of cabana boy for you, are you, you old queer?"

Dumbledore, for once, looked very angry, but he reigned in that anger seemingly very quickly. McGonagall stepped in and eyed Tom coldly. "A mark against you now, Tom," she said, "Give me more reasons to have you taken away and we will."

Tom rolled his eyes. "Don't you people get it? I don't care. I don't give a damn anymore. I saw what hell is, I've FELT it, and dangling death in front of me is like holding a carrot in front of a donkey. I want death. I want to just die and not deal with this inane world any longer. Its people like you lot that cause men like me to crop up, anyway!"

Dumbledore nodded and motioned toward McGonagall and Snape. "Let us leave him, then. Severus, untie him and let him go back to the infirmary. Minerva, we have to find a man who will be willing to take the Defense Against the Dark Arts job soon."

McGonagall left with Dumbledore as Snape untied Tom's wrists and led him out to the infirmary; practically shoving him at his bed. There were children inside the room already, a couple having bad colds, one having had a bad run in with a bludger; all of them situated near Tom's own bed. Snape left Tom to his own devices as Pomfrey looked out from her office for a check up and then disappeared back into it.

Tom thought about leaving, but he had no place to go. His Deatheaters were probably scattered and some in Azkaban. No one in this blasted world knew who the hell he was now. He was Tom Riddle now, not Lord Voldemort. His face had been given back to him, though he did always prefer having his handsome face to that of the snake-like one that was Lord Voldemort. He liked the scariness of the Lord Voldemort look, but preferred the far more insidious clean cut male handsome face he was born with.

He listened to the children breathing and felt a little like he was a child again, coming to the school for the first time and getting a cold only to spend the night in a chilly infirmary. He started to drift off to sleep when one of the little sounds of breathing became troubled and then the muffled sound of someone trying to scream but not able to do so. He shot up quickly and looked around for the source. All he saw was moonlit infirmary.

A blackened area caught his attention. He grabbed the wand of the child next to him and held it up toward the blackened area, glaring at it coldly. "Expecto Patronum."

Nothing happened. He groaned at his own foolishness, but he couldn't sit and wait. He ran over and attempted to pull the black lethifold off of the child who seemed to be slowing his struggles. A happy thought had to come into his mind to perform the spell that he knew at least would force the thing off the child, for his strength wasn't doing any good. Happy thoughts were not a part of him. Too many rotten things had occurred in his life for anything happy to come out. The only thing that occurred to him was the time he stood by and watched the orphanage burn down.

It would have to do.

He touched the wand to the lethifold and growled in a loud tone, "Expecto Patronum!" A heart beat passed and nothing formed. A second beat passed and Tom thought the child was going to die right then. A third heart beat; this time something bright burst from the wand and tore at the lethifold with sharp teeth and a howl. The lethifold flew off the child and floated across the floor, hissing at the wolf that served as Tom's patronus for the moment. It continued floating away until it went through the small crack in the window and disappeared into the night.

Tom dropped down and checked the child that had been attacked. It was a little first year girl and she was coughing heavily to get air back into her lungs. When he saw Madame Pomfrey hurry over, he backed away, the wand still in his hand.

"What did you do to this girl? Did you harm her?!" she snarled at him.

"This black thing came in and started choking Muriel, Madame Pomfrey," said a boy across the room from the girl's bed. Tom had not noticed him there before.

"A lethifold? Here?!" She looked up at Tom, not entirely convinced, but hurried out quickly from the infirmary.

"I understand the confusion," muttered Tom, "Given how those ruddy things are supposed to only live in tropical areas." He grunted and rubbed his face. This was going to be a very long night.


	3. Chapter Three

_**A/N: I've discovered the anime Romeo x Juliet. I never liked Romeo and Juliet before, but this has my attention. Now if only Romeo and Juliet had been this interesting, I might've paid more attention to it. XD**_

_**Mmmmm Hamlet….**_

_**Chapter Three**_

Tom sat back once more in that chair, staring off at the door opposite him with his wrists tied to the arms of the chair. Once more, Dumbledore stood off and was listening to Pomfrey as she spoke to him about what had happened in the infirmary as Snape sat back away from Tom with his arms crossed in front of his chest. He was wearing what seemed to be his pajamas and a bathrobe, signifying that Snape had been trying to get to bed before the lethifold attack on the girl, Muriel Lomeswitch.

"Lethifolds are rare," said Pomfrey hissed, "Far too rare to have had been brought here on accident! Even then, the creatures are native to tropical zones, not climates like England, most especially Scotland!"

Dumbledore put up a hand to silence Pomfrey and smiled faintly toward her. "Thank you, Poppy." Madame Pomfrey backed off and glared at Tom, earning a rather bored expression. Dumbledore moved closer to Tom and leaned down slightly. "What happened?"

Tom raised an eyebrow at Dumbledore, looking over his shoulder at a somewhat appalled Pomfrey before looking back to Dumbledore again. "I already said to that one there what had happened and she didn't believe me. I know what I saw and I borrowed a student's wand to form a patronus. As I recall, that is the only known form of repellent for those things."

"Yes, it is, Tom," said Dumbledore, "And you came up with that in a very short amount of time as well. You saved a girl's life."

Tom grunted and looked away. He didn't see the small smile forming on Dumbledore's face as he moved away from him. Tom looked off toward Snape and watched as the man scowled at him. McGonagall walked in and closed the door behind her, dressed in her tartan bathrobe. "Albus, the professor for the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts has run off. He said he saw what looked like demons coming after him in the night and would stay no longer."

"A man afraid of shadows? My, don't you people find the best," muttered Tom.

McGonagall eyed Tom coolly and looked back to Dumbledore carefully. "We have no teacher except Mr. Riddle now. That is, unless we can convince someone to take the place whilst in the middle of the first semester. It is almost Halloween, after all."

"There could be a chance we might be able to convince Mr. Hornswallow of Devon to help us, but that might take a while to accomplish," said Dumbledore.

McGonagall looked aghast at Dumbledore, but reined it in quickly. "Professor Dumbledore, are you aware that man is completely daft?" she said through her teeth.

"I am sure that he will be fine for the time being, Minerva. I once spoke with him and he seemed to know what he was talking about," said Dumbledore softly.

Tom's left eye was twitching slightly in his irritation. He knew of Mr. Aaron Hornswallow and hated him with a passion. He knew the dark arts, all right, like a rock knew about public speaking. He was more than daft, he was outright stupid and Tom would not have anyone so ridiculously stupid take his beloved position if he could help it!

"I'll take it," muttered Tom.

"Pardon, Tom, I didn't hear you," said Dumbledore, turning toward Tom.

Tom groaned and clenched his eyes tightly shut as he rolled his head back. "I said, 'I will take the job', you old queer. Did you simply not hear me or has taking it up the bum caused some sort of disorder in your spinal column and, by way of the spinal cord, ruined the synapses rendering you capable of hearing?"

Dumbledore eyed Tom a bit coldly before turning to McGonagall. "Why don't you send word to him, then. We do need a teacher very quickly."

"All right! I'm sorry! Just give me the job!" cried Tom.

"Pardon? I seem a bit deaf in my left ear."

Tom sat up properly and hung his head in defeat as he grit his teeth and spoke a bit more calmly. "I am sorry to have insulted you, Professor Dumbledore. Would you allow me the privilege to take the position as professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts?"

Dumbledore watched him for a moment and then nodded. "I see," he said softly and then smiled faintly at Tom, a twinkle in his eye, "Then, I shall make certain your office will be ready as well as how far into the class the students have gone."

Tom felt like he'd been swindled, but he wasn't going to argue. If anything, it would at least give him something to do other than glaring at a ceiling all day. Aside from that, he hadn't had a wink of sleep yet. These damned teachers were keeping him up through the entire night! He looked over to the window as McGonagall released Tom's bonds. He was right; the light of the sun was beginning to creep up over the horizon. He had fully been able to go through the entire night with only two hours of sleep.

"There is still the matter of the lethifold, Professor Dumbledore," said Snape as he stood up.

"Leave that to me," said Tom. Everyone looked to him as he turned sharply toward them and stood up in one smooth move. He rubbed his wrists with long fingered hands before walking briskly toward the door.

"Do you have some sort of idea forming inside that head of yours?" asked McGonagall sharply.

Tom stopped and looked over his shoulder toward her, smiling a very charming smile, though it was a bit cold. "As I said, Minerva," he said, "Leave that to me." Then, he walked off quickly.

* * *

The school day started nicely. Breakfast was served in the massive dining hall of the castle called The Great Hall with toast and jam, eggs and oatmeal, sausage and bacon littering the table for the children to eat. It was a lazy sort of morning, though chilly; everyone going about their daily breakfast routines. Children talked to their friends, tables glared at each other, the teachers sat down at the head table and spoke very little to one another. The Defense Against the Dark Arts professor was missing from the head table, but no one seemed to miss him.

Little Muriel Lomeswitch was regaling her friends at the Hufflepuff table about how a mysterious man with shaggy black hair and almost black eyes saved her from being suffocated by the lethifold that attacked her in the infirmary while she had been recovering from her cold. The girls surrounding her all gasped at her story and looked around to see if perhaps this man had been a new teacher or if he was at the head table as a guest. No one new could be seen amongst the teachers.

When it was time for class, the students all hurried to their respective classrooms quickly. The third years had Defense Against the Dark Arts first thing in the morning and each took their seat where they were supposed to. There was no teacher present, but they remained seated; one boy in particular sitting close to the front with flaming red hair looked especially bored.

The door opened and in walked a very well dressed and clean man. He was very tall and thin, his handsomely chiseled features, however, were hollowed by lack of nutrition and he had dark circles under his eyes. His black hair was freshly trimmed and brushed just so. He eyed everyone in the room with dark blue eyes that were quite pretty had he been healthy. In fact, the very image of him could be described as very attractive if he had been healthy.

He put his books down and turned to the board, picking up the chalk to write out his name onto the board before turning back around to face his students. He smiled faintly, though it was a somewhat strained smile. "I am your new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher; Professor Tom Marvolo Riddle is my name. You will address me as either Professor Riddle or Mr. Riddle, understood?" The children mumbled and murmured an affirmative before he straightened and walked around his desk to sit on it. "Your previous teacher, whom I have the fortunate luck to never have even met nor to be graced upon with his name, has high-tailed it for safer places where he might very well hide in a nice dark corner until he snuffs it."

A girl raised her hand, a Hufflepuff it seemed. Tom nodded to her slowly. "Professor Riddle, why did he leave?"

He looked down at the seating chart that had been given to him and looked up at the girl. "Jennifer Werner?" he asked.

"Ah, yes, sir?"

"Stand up when you ask a question. I don't like taking a guess as to where you're located nor do I wish to guess who is talking, understood?" said Tom with that same crisp way of talking he seemed so particular toward.

The girl blushed and stood up quickly, her mousy hair pulled back into pigtails. "I.. I asked why Professor Gimble left, sir."

"I could ask you why you forced me to acknowledge him with a name, but I won't go that far," said Tom with a faint irritated grunt before he sighed and looked to the girl, "He left because Peeves scared him until he soiled himself."

The class collectively chuckled quietly before quieting down. When they did, he looked around the room and let his eyes go right toward the bright red haired boy sitting in front. He was a tall, thin boy with light blue eyes and plenty of freckles scattered across his face. No doubt in Tom's mind that the boy was a Weasley. He had had the chance to see a pair of them before, but only briefly. "William Weasley," he said as he looked at the chart.

The boy, Bill, stood up from his chair to look at Tom. Tom eyed him over carefully for a moment more before putting the seating chart down. "You certainly look very bright," he said carefully, "Might you be of Arthur and Molly Weasley?"

"That.. would be my parents, sir, yes," said Bill, smiling faintly.

Tom nodded for him to sit down before he turned and went back behind his desk. He picked up the book that they were learning from and looked at the notes that had been prepared for him as to where the children were supposed to have been left off at. Tom looked at the list and put the book down. "You left off with grindylows, so I suppose I'll have start there," he drawled in a very bored tone before turning to the board. "Everyone, I want you to take note of what a grindylow looks like and what part of the water they are most often seen."

His attempt at drawing a grindylow was not the best and it made some of the children giggle at his poor attempt at artistry. He gritted his teeth and attempted not to let it get to him. Any startling change in behavior would result in some idiot getting his job and he would go off to have his soul sucked out in Azkaban. After taking a deep breath, he continued until he was at least satisfied it looked well enough like a grindylow to pass. Then, he turned to the class and pointed to various points on the long limbs of the creature. "The grindylow has very thin and brittle limbs, most especially the fingers. They are easy to break and require little effort in doing so, however, their touch burns a bit from the poisons in their skin," he said.

Tom wrote some of this on the board for the children to take down, but he became somewhat distracted by the voice of a boy toward the front who had a sort of weaselly tone to his voice. "He looks like a right push over to me," said the boy to another. "Probably came to school as a Hufflepuff or something."

Tom finished the notes and turned round to pinpoint where the voice he heard came from before looking down at his seating chart. "Mr. Charles-Wicke?" he called.

A short, pointy faced boy with brown hair and beady eyes stood up. He had on the markings of a Slytherin on his robes and uniform, forcing Tom to bite back a groan. He straightened up after a moment and turned back around. "Ten points from Slytherin for speaking without permission."

The boy groaned and started to sit down, but Tom's voice rang out once again. "I didn't give you permission to sit down, Mr. Charles-Wicke."

"But, sir! How can I take my notes?" cried the boy.

Tom turned slightly and looked over his shoulder toward the boy. "Then, learn not to talk about your teachers where they can hear you." Tom clucked his tongue softly as he turned back around. "Really, children these days. You make me ashamed of my old house."

Immediately, the children began murmuring to each other. Tom's temper was slowly rising higher and he gripped the chalk in his hand like he was trying to crush it. "Children, please be quiet."

The vase with some dead flowers in it burst suddenly on the windowsill, pieces of it flying outward and clattering to the ground. A couple of girls shrieked in surprise as the boys cried out and ducked for cover. Tom ran a hand through his hair and mussed it up slightly as he attempted to think how to remedy the situation. It was a small flaw in his person, but a great show of his magic to have his anger take itself out on objects or, indeed, sometimes the walls and ground. When his temper rose, small, breakable things would burst and when he was truly angry, the very ground rumbled. He cursed Dumbledore for not giving him any wand to use and had to walk over and clean the mess up himself with a small broom and pan that was handy.

He threw away the remnants of the vase and went over to the girls seated nearest to the vase. One had a cut cheek, the other was just frightened. He checked the wound for any remaining glass and then stood her and her classmate up. "Class, stay seated until I come back." Then, he walked out with them both.

"Did you see that?"

"Yeah, it looked like something just made it explode."

The children spoke amongst each other in the class as Tom took the girls to the infirmary. When he reached the infirmary, he sat both girls down and retrieved Madame Pomfrey to deal with them. She glared at him before she went to the girls, clearly saying "I don't trust that you didn't have a hand in this, but I'll take care of them, so go away."

Meanwhile, the children in the classroom were almost creating a conspiracy theory as to what had happened. "Do you think it had to do with the professor getting angry?" asked one.

"Yeah, he got really angry and then the vase broke. I heard that my uncle used to do the same when he was a kid, but he doesn't do it anymore," said another.

"He said he was a Slytherin. You-Know-Who was a Slytherin, you know," said a little Gryffindor girl with black hair.

"Yeah, do you think he was in You-Know-Who's circle?" asked another girl, also wearing Gryffindor robes.

"He seemed pretty nice until those two botched it up," said Bill as he stood up, his Gryffindor touched robes swishing around him as he stood, "Especially since he took Mary and Haruna to the infirmary."

"Would everyone please sit down," said Tom as he entered. He eyed Bill for a moment and frowned faintly. Why was the boy defending him? For a moment, Tom forgot that he did not look the same as he did only a year ago. When it hit him, he almost appreciated the boy for his astute observations before he remembered the boy was a Weasley.

The children went back into their seats and back to their notes. Tom looked to them all and watched them carefully. He put the chalk down and dusted his hands off before sitting down at his desk. The children looked at him with puzzled expressions all on their faces. Tom leaned forward on his desk and steepled his fingers in front of him; resting his lips on them for a moment. There were few options open to Tom to deal with this. They would continue to talk about him behind his back until he told them something and he needed them to trust him. He could lie about himself, which was probably his only shot at making certain they didn't know it was him who they all called You-Know-Who. He could also attempt to scare them all into cooperating, but that wouldn't work too well. The Gryffindors alone were a difficult lot to make afraid. That was their greatest strength and why they were Gryffindors.

"We're off on the wrong foot here," he said softly. "It seems we should take a break and learn of each other to better understand the change of teachers here." He moved his fingers from his lips and folded them on his desk as he looked out. "I introduced myself earlier as Tom Marvolo Riddle. I was once a student like yourselves at this school, so very long ago. I had a very simple life and still pretty well do. I was sorted into Slytherin and am still very proud of that honor, despite the claim that 'no witch or wizard who has ever gone into that house has ever turned out good'."

"You were a Slytherin, sir? Were you picked on?" asked a dark haired Slytherin girl next to Mr. Charles-Wicke. This girl at least looked relatively intelligent.

"Yes, for being a…" Tom stopped as the word died in his throat and a cold sweat broke out over him. He became paler than he already was and seemed to choke in order to speak. The children looked to each other uncertainly, the Gryffindor girls standing up and looking ready to run over to see if he was all right. He lifted up a hand and coughed. "I... was picked on constantly… for being a half-blood," he said finally.

"Are you all right, sir?" asked a little Ravenclaw girl.

"I will be fine," said Tom sharply. He rubbed his face and straightened himself in his chair to view the children. "However," he continued, "After a while, they did not bother me about it, though only occasionally from older boys who thought me an easy target." Charles-Wicke and his friend both slinked down into their seats so as to avoid being seen. "I was also given the title Head Boy in my fifth year for finding the criminal that had killed a girl from Ravenclaw.. or who I thought might be the culprit, given the evidence that I had found."

"I know! I've seen your trophy in the hall of trophies!" cried a Ravenclaw boy.

Tom nodded and looked to the children. "For the past several years after school, I have worked as many things. I was offered this job because I was very knowledgeable of many things and willing." He then smiled faintly at them all, though it was still a bit of a fake smile at them. It at least wasn't nearly as cold as the one they had received prior to the vase exploding. "Will you be willing to have me as your teacher, given what you know of me now?"

The students looked at each other for a while, looking back to Tom and then back as though uncertain what they should say. Finally, Bill Weasley stood and nodded. "I'll have you as my teacher," he said, smiling at Tom. Tom eyed him for a moment before flicking his gaze over the rest of the class. More children stood and nodded toward him until almost the entire class was standing.

"All right then, let us continue with the course on Grindylows," he said and then turned back around to the board. The class went relatively smoothly after that and then it was time for the children to leave for their next class, giving Tom a little time to himself at his desk. He had just told them a great deal more than he wished to tell them that time. What was worse was that he would have another class to deal with and another and another still, all would need him to either acquaint themselves with him or give them a good lecture.

"One down," he said softly as he rubbed his face, "and far too many left to go."


	4. Chapter Four

_**A/N: aaaaaand now Tom gets his spotlight.**_

_**Oh! Amanda went to Ikkicon and got me a Jack Sparrow print and a necklace and a SABER DOLL. o.o Yes… I now have Saber on my nightstand with Excalibur and her chicken legs. . **_

_**Chapter Four**_

As the days wore on, Professor Riddle was becoming a lot better looking, due to looking a lot healthier than he had when he had first started teaching. However, there was always something missing from him. He would always have to borrow a wand to demonstrate before going back to his desk to observe students doing what he instructed.

Little Muriel Lomeswitch raised her hand in class, blushing madly as she looked up at both her savior and new Defense Against The Dark Arts professor. Tom, whose nose seemed to be buried in grading papers and the like, didn't even bother looking up at her, but seemed to know instinctively who was trying to gain his attention. "Yes, Miss Lomeswitch, what is the problem?"

"Ah," sputtered Muriel as she quickly stood up to speak, "A-ah, Professor Riddle… could you answer us as to why you don't have a wand? Shouldn't all professors already own a wand?"

Tom looked up slowly and gazed at Muriel, smiling very faintly before resuming his normal rather cold look; folding his hands on his desk in front of him as he spoke. "Yes, that is a very astute observation, Miss Lomeswitch, one that I might add is a very good question to ask. My wand was destroyed in an accident before I came here and Headmaster Dumbledore gave me the position on account of how knowledgeable I am in this particular subject."

"I heard you were in Slytherin!" cried another girl as she stood up.

Tom's cheek twitched slightly and took a deep breath. "Yes, I did go here as a boy and was sorted into Slytherin."

Another girl stood up with her hand raised as Tom lazily looked over to her with some small amount of irritation. "Yes?"

"Is it not then true that there isn't a witch or wizard who has been in Slytherin that hasn't gone bad?" asked the girl, much to the dismay of the Slytherin students in the class as they shouted various things at her.

Tom stood up and ruffled his hair. "To an extent, that is true, actually," he said softly. It was an eerie softness, one that sent a small chill through the class and silenced them all. He sat down on the edge of his desk and stroked his chin silently. "Everyone is capable of being good and evil. Muggles included," he said, continuing in his soft tone, "It is what you do that determines how you will come out. A Gryffindor's typical response is to charge in without a second thought. A Ravenclaw's response is to formulate a plan of action that would best suit their abilities. A Hufflepuff will join the Gryffindor and help, for there is no greater cause for a Hufflepuff than to be a great help to who ever needs it. A Slytherin works out if what is occurring is in their best interests before coming up with what best to do. None of these are terrible traits."

"Then, why are so many Slytherins said to have been in you-know-who's circle?" asked a boy as he raised his hand.

Tom's cheek twitched again and he rubbed his face. "As I said, it's all in what you do and what your motivations behind it are for. Now get back to work before I give you extra," said Tom tersely before moving behind his desk and sitting down.

The children watched him expectantly before giving up and working on their class work with a collective sigh. Tom could almost feel their disappointment. It got under his skin and slithered its way into his chest. He grunted after a moment and stood up once more, moving around his desk to sit on the edge of it once more. "All right, the reason that there were so many Slytherins in You-Know-Who's circle is because they all felt that they had something to gain and were too afraid to say anything otherwise. Is that better?"

The children looked up with wide eyes and looked very pleased that he had answered them. He felt strange that they all looked up at him this way and it sort of unnerved him. He moved back to his seat and sat down quickly, rubbing his face with a groan.

"Is something the matter, sir?" asked Muriel Lomeswitch.

"No, and please do get back to work," said Tom as he pulled his hands away from his face. When everyone else turned back to their class work, Tom watched them all carefully, anxiousness deep in his bones making him feel almost as though he were sick. When the bell rang, Tom walked out after his students left and went for a walk, since it was the last class of the day. The students made their way up to their commons to put their books and work away before coming down for dinner. There was still time before dinner, so Tom decided it was as good a time as any to walk about where the students wouldn't dare tread and disturb him.

It had been a week or two since he had been introduced to the school as Professor Riddle and it was the first time he had ever been able to go outside since coming out of the doors. He wandered the darkening woods carefully, watching and listening for anything big and nasty to try to take after him. Wandering around those woods had always been very quiet and served to help him think when he had been a teenager. His mind would become a great massive jumble of thoughts when he hit puberty and it simply increased without ceasing even once to give him more trouble. At that time he was very prone to making anything around him explode; nothing was safe.

He stopped when he thought he had heard hooves running in the distance and hid behind a bush carefully. The sound dissipated until it disappeared entirely. The last thing he needed to do was have an arrow shot through him and crawl his way out of the forest for Madam Pomfrey to scold him for getting. After a while, he moved out from behind the bush and made his way once more around the edge of the forest.

He stopped when he saw something lying across the ground that looked like a black silk sheet had been settled over the ground, though not as shiny. He moved closer toward it and picked up a stick before reaching the sheet like thing on the ground. He poked it with the stick and got little response from the thing before lifting it up with the stick, letting it drape around the stick much like a sheet would. Tom eyed it closer and flicked his eyes around for anyone nearby before he touched it. It was freezing cold to the touch and didn't even flutter when a touch of warmth hit it. "Now isn't this interesting," he muttered to himself as he touched the thing. It wasn't like touching a sheet, but like putting his hand into something cold and somewhat jelly like. The only difference were that it didn't feel quite as rubbery as jelly. The lethifold was as good as dead.

He started toward the castle when he saw a great big hut and heard someone big and heavy moving closer. He blinked in confusion as he saw a great bearded wild man like a giant appear in front of him with wood in his arms. He knew the man who stared at him and yet he couldn't quite place him. Perhaps he was a caretaker like Mr. Filch?

Tom lifted the stick up with the dead lethifold on it and nodded toward him. "Perhaps you might help me take this thing into the castle?" asked Tom.

It was as though it happened in slow motion. One moment, Tom watched the great beast of a wild man drop his firewood; the next, he was charging at Tom with a yell equal to that of a charging, angry wildebeest. "Oh bugger," muttered Tom before the great giant of a man hauled him off his feet by his throat and clamped down on his neck like a vice.

Tom dropped the stick with the dead lethifold on it and shoved at the great behemoth with all his might as he pushed his feet on the man's chest. "Tom Riddle, you great, horrible, sneaky little snake! I swore I'd either kill you or shove you at Dumbledore to tell him the truth!"

"Hagrid! Let go of me! I'm a teacher now and you'll have worse done to you for harming a teacher!" yelled Tom as he shoved again at Hagrid's chest.

Hagrid scoffed and tossed Tom down onto the ground. Tom rolled away and pulled himself up into a crouch; rubbing his throat as he coughed and gasped for breath. Had Hagrid been told about a new teacher at Hogwarts? If so, he had not been told the name or else he might not have reacted so violently.

Hagrid, the half giant, had been a third year when Tom was fifteen. He had needed a scapegoat for his killing that stupid little girl Myrtle when she had caught him in the girls bathroom about to open the door to go into the underground cavern that Slytherin himself had made. Tom had Hagrid and the teachers believe it was Hagrid's little pet spider that killed the girl so that he could continue experimenting with the soul splitting. It really was no wonder that Hagrid continued to remember him so easily, but Tom barely recalled it until the man's hands clamped around his throat.

Hagrid eyed Tom with those beady eyes of his through all that mess of hair on his head and face. "Dumbledore said that he hired a new teacher, that he was restricted to being indoors," said Hagrid, calming himself down. "If you're the teacher, I suppose you won't mind going to see Dumbledore, then, eh? Especially since you're not supposed to be outdoors. He said it was bad for your health or sammat." He seemed to be inching closer to a rather strange pink umbrella, giving rise to suspicion that Hagrid was allowed to keep his wand after he was expelled.

"I've got no wand on me, you great git," grumbled Tom as he slowly stood up.

"Oh yeah? Prove it," said Hagrid as he continued to move closer to the pink umbrella.

"Well, for starters, if I had a wand, you wouldn't be heading toward that pink umbrella right now," said Tom with a grunt. A thought struck him as he eyed the ugly thing. "By the way, what possessed you to use a **pink** umbrella? That has to be the ugliest thing I've ever seen."

Hagrid stopped and eyed Tom for a moment before he picked up the umbrella and moved closer. Tom, not very impressed, simply walked forward and moved to pick up the stick with the dead lethifold on it. "What're you doing?!" shouted Hagrid in surprise, thinking Tom was going to attack him.

Tom held up the dead thing on a stick to Hagrid and waved it about for a moment. "This thing I found out here. It attacked one of the students and I was told I would be allowed to investigate wherever I needed to to find who brought the damned thing into the school. Unless you know something, which I don't doubt but I'll refrain from that for now, don't get in my way."

"Are you saying I would endanger the children here?" said Hagrid, looking ready to jump Tom again.

Tom rolled his eyes and headed toward the castle again. "Come with me, you great oaf. I feel this will educate you a little. After all, you only were able to learn everything up to your third year, or did Dumbledore help you along outside of the school, hmmm?" Hagrid glared dangerously at Tom before Tom moved a little faster to put some distance between him and the angry half giant. The last thing Tom wanted, aside from the centaurs trying to kill him and Madam Pomfrey scolding him, was that great giant of a man to attempt to kill him again.

Inside, Tom went up to find the gargoyle that sat in front of Dumbledore's office. Now, the only task left was to figure out the old professor's password. However, luck came along faster than he had expected. McGonagall seemed to come out of no where with her hat cocked slightly and her green robes draped around the black dress she wore. He held up the dead lethifold on a stick up to her and she stopped and eyed it through her square glasses. "That.. is… very odd," she said. She coughed and walked up to the gargoyle and said, "Acid pops." The gargoyle jumped away and a staircase spiraled up into the side of the wall, light trickling down on it.

They made their way up the staircase and entered the Headmaster's office. All the paintings of previous headmasters stopped and looked down at Tom with curiosity; murmuring to each other. Dumbledore was behind his desk as they entered and looked up from the paper work in front of him, smiling at them. "Hello, Tom," he said, "I see you have made good on your promise to find it."

"Actually, I said I would figure out what was happening, but that's beside the point," muttered Tom before he dropped the thing on Dumbledore's desk. "This was out in the woods. I don't recall anything saying they can die, but I'm sure it's not going to be moving for a very long time, given how cold it is. They live in tropical climates, so someplace as cold as Scotland is will likely cause the thing to freeze to death."

"Yes, but how did one come up here? They don't migrate and they would never go to someplace where they would likely die," said McGonagall as she poked it with her wand.

"Yes, we established this before when you had to interrogate me after saving that girl from it and just now when I told you." Tom looked away as McGonagall glared at him to look to the paintings. "I have only one idea as to how it came to be here, but I'm not sure which one. Procuring a lethifold is very difficult and would require an extended stay someplace where one would be available… or I suppose pay a man to find one."

Hagrid looked to Dumbledore and then to Tom. "Professor, is it true that this is the new teacher?" said Hagrid as he indicated Tom.

"Yes, Hagrid and I had told you he was restricted to indoors. I apologize for that. I had forgotten that Tom had indeed said he would be looking for the lethifold and be working out why it was here," said Dumbledore, smiling faintly toward Hagrid.

"It would be worth a great deal of money should someone try to buy it," said McGonagall, not looking at Tom.

"Indeed, Minerva, a lot of money," muttered Tom as he walked over toward one portrait. "Could you give me a list of people, Minerva? A list of all those who… are suspect?"

"Suspect?" asked McGonagall as she raised her eyebrows slightly before she smiled very faintly for a moment. "Indeed, that might be a very long list. Don't you remember anyone yourself?"

"I know those who were contacts and the like, but it would be very helpful if I could have something in front of me that I could cross off physically," said Tom.

Hagrid frowned as he watched the two of them before looking at the creature laying across Dumbledore's desk. Dumbledore smiled faintly and nodded toward Hagrid. "Thank you for being on watch, Hagrid, it is very helpful to have open eyes where none would normally dare to look."

Hagrid grinned and shuffled around a little. "Well, it's not that hard, sir, and I'll do anything to protect the children and the school." Then, he bobbed a little and walked out quickly down the spiral staircase.

"I remember a lot of my own supporters, yes, Minerva," said Tom softly, "But I need to know who was captured and who still roams about. I've been gone for a year."

"I will ask Severus to help me then," said McGonagall as she nodded toward Tom.

Tom waved dismissively at her before poking the dead lethifold once more. McGonagall rolled her eyes and walked down the staircase quickly, stiff as always. When she was gone, Tom moved immediately toward Dumbledore and put his hands on his desk as he leaned closer. "I need a wand."

Dumbledore gazed up at Tom carefully, steepling his fingers in front of his face. "I was wondering when you would come to that," said Dumbledore quietly.

"Will you at least allow me to go to Diagon Alley and get a new wand, or am I not permitted even that far?" said Tom, glaring at Dumbledore. "After all, isn't it strange to have a teacher who doesn't own a wand?"

"No need for reminding me of such matters, Tom, I was simply gauging when I should give you your old wand back," said Dumbledore. He eyed him carefully for the longest time, making Tom feel uncomfortable after a while before he smiled faintly and moved back in his chair, pulling up Tom's wand. "I believe this is what you have been wanting, Tom."

Tom eyed Dumbledore a moment before holding his hand out to receive it. Dumbledore gave it to him and watched him as Tom held the wand up to his face and examined it. "A few scrapes and what not, but you survived didn't you," he muttered to it as he ran those long fingers of his over it. Then, Tom walked out, waving a hand to Dumbledore as he left.

Dumbledore sat back and watched him leave. It felt like he was bringing up a formerly wild dog as a domestic pet when he attempted to get any sort of civil response out of Tom. Dumbledore sighed and sat up to close the draw in his desk. Tom was simply too fresh from the doors to be accustomed to the way things were for him now. He could only hope that Tom was not going to do something very terrible with his wand now that he had it back.


	5. Chapter Five

_**A/N: as with anything else I do, I have to be in the mood to write in order to write something, so I apologize for making you wait on this. ; Currently, I'm watching my kitten Chewy wander around my room sniffing round. And he's finally started using that little pet bed I got him when we first got him from my cousin in Industry. He likes to sleep between my legs under my lap desk which I have my drawings and laptop on when I work.**_

_**Chapter Five**_

_A little girl played with her friend as the boys off to the side plotted to do something mean to the girls. One boy, however, was off to the side, alone, as usual, watching and wondering if he shouldn't probably do something. One of the girls was a very pretty girl with long hair pulled back into a pair of braids as she played with a donated doll to the orphanage. If she were adopted, then she would definitely grow up to be a very pretty young woman who would get the attention of all the young men around. She already held this lone boy's attention, though he hardly knew why._

_The other girl played with some donated blocks and was attempting to make some sort of structure out of them, though it didn't work. The boys came over and kicked the blocks away from the second girl while the first hugged her doll. The boys laughed and jeered before ripping the doll from the girls, the second girl getting angry and taking after the boys with fists balled. _

_The lone boy stood up and walked calmly toward the boys as they played "keep away" with the doll and the second girl. He was far taller than any of the boys and especially the girls, so it was no great feat to reach up and pluck the doll from the boys' hands and walk off with it. The second girl yelped in fright while the boys shouted at him to give it back. He walked calmly over to the first girl, the prettier girl, and held the doll out to her. "The doll," he said._

_The pretty girl looked up at the boy in fright as well, big eyes wide as she looked up at him and at the doll. She finally snatched the doll away from him and threw a block at his head before running off quickly. The boy stood still, looking down at the floor where the little girl had been. He had liked her. She was nice and quiet and friendly, so why was it that he had blood trickling down the right side of his face from a cut made by the sharp corner of the block from his forehead?_

_He hated them._

_He hated them all for their crying and their happy faces. _

_But most of all, he hated that one girl for spurning him when he had helped her. _

_He wanted all of them to die._

_A loud popping sound resounded through the room as a vase burst. Water rushed down onto the ground as small pieces of glass scattered on the ground. Kids screamed as they moved away from the shattered glass. Mrs. Cole ran in to see what the commotion was about, her features now pale from the surprise. That face grew even paler as she looked down at the source of the confusion. "Tom Riddle!" she cried._

_The boy, Tom, looked up at Mrs. Cole and the eyes were as cold as they could be; blood trickled down his cheek as he glared at her. Mrs. Cole slapped him. "That's enough! Go to your room!" she shouted. "I'll deal with you later!"_

_The room melted to another part of the orphanage. The boy, Tom, was standing before a very drunk Mrs. Cole as she stood up from her chair. "Don't look at me," she slurred, "Don't look at me with those eyes! You're too quiet, you are. TOO QUIET! I bet you steal the things that the boys have, eh? Little thief!"_

_Tom stood there and took it, having become accustomed to this sort of thing already. However, something occurred that Mrs. Cole had not done before when she was drunk. The sound of her hand making contact with his cheek resounded around the room as he staggered backward and held his face. A bit of blood came out of his lip which had been wounded by her hitting him. "Don't look at me like that! You little monster! You're unnatural! You're evil! I knew there was something weird about your mother and now you show the same weird feeling she did!"_

_The room rumbled suddenly as though there were some sort of earthquake happening. Tom wasn't looking at her, but toward the floor. She stopped and seemed to suddenly sober up, moving backward quickly. The plaster in the walls burst in bright white clouds around her while pieces merely fell to the ground. She trembled, her pale complexion once more draining even more of the color in it as she shook her head in disbelief. _

_"Monster…. You really are a... monster," she whispered._

_Tom lifted his head finally, but ignored her, walking away. A monster? Yes, he had to be something other than all these stupid humans. His mother had to have been something special before or maybe even his dad. But, if his mother was something special, why had she died giving birth to him? Perhaps something she had run into had caused her to be unable to live after giving all her life force just to birth him. Either way, there could be no way he could be even remotely related to these… humans._

* * *

Tom opened his eyes as he looked around the room given to him. He had been able to furnish it, though not with much since he couldn't access any bank he had set up before. Bellatrix was in Azkaban, though he hardly cared much about her since she was so irritating. However, Bellatrix kept watch over some of his possessions. They were useless as horcruxes, but perhaps he might be able to sell the valuable things to a museum or something, perhaps even get the "old queer" to buy the trinkets off of him so he might actually be able to get some money. He doubted, however, that Albus Dumbledore had much in the way of gold to give to him for those precious things.

The curtains around his bed were plush green velvet, something filched from the Slytherin dorms by one of the house elves for him. He certainly wasn't going to stay with the awful red of the Gryffindor dorm beds that McGonagall had originally given to him. She knew that he despised and loathed pretty well everything but his old house colors. Although, his loathing of everything but his old house colors didn't say much about him, since he pretty well loathed even his own house as well.

He rubbed his face as he sat up. The dreams were coming back to him? He would have laughed if it meant he was laughing at another him, a pathetic little boy who could do little but be a sore in the hide of a drunkard woman. As it was, he could only chuckle hollowly at himself. What a mess he was! He still had boyhood nightmares of his old childhood inside that hell hole. Would he never be rid of that place? Would he continue to see the faces of those wretched people until he died alone in his own personal hell?

He scratched his bare chest and looked across toward the mirror that had been allowed him to use. While he had been able to make himself healthy once more, his face looked tired from the lack of sleep he had for the past several days due to the memories resurfacing. His deep blue eyes had dark circles around them like some sort of cartoonish thief and his skin was far paler than usual for him.

The image of the doors appeared to him in that instant, while staring into that full length mirror. The doors opened to reveal him standing and staring at the now open doors while the room seemed to disappear around him. The man before him was grotesque in his skeletal appearance; the lack of sleep, water and food having done more than enough damage to him. But he could not die in that place. He could starve and could dehydrate to the most dangerous levels, he could go mad from not being able to sleep, but he could not die in that place.

The horror of the moment struck him and he could not help but stare into his own face. Was this a warning to him? Was this a warning to him that if he did not behave and be a "good little boy" that he would be forced within those damnable walls once more and forced to endure the taunting of Truth within? The faceless enemy, his right arm and left leg that of a human while the rest was of nothing more than light, sat behind the figure of the gaunt Riddle that Tom had been before. Truth's broadening grin sent a shiver of disgust and fear through Tom and he involuntarily backed away from himself and fell backward onto his bed.

He looked around, panting and sweating horribly, to take in his surroundings. He had never left his room and he was still on his new bed. Truth was either playing a cruel game on him or his subconscious was warning him. It mattered not.

He looked to the small clock afforded to him and grunted when he found it was past time for him to be up and in the great hall breakfasting. He was certain that Minerva would likely make note of it in her typical matter, but Severus would likely be even more prone to mocking him with this amount of lack of care toward his usually flawless schedule. Tom quickly dressed and shaved, and then he walked down toward the great hall while pulling a comb through his black hair.

Minerva McGonagall sat on one side of Professor Dumbledore as Severus Snape sat on the other side, both attempting not to look at Tom as he made his way to a seat next to Professor Sinistra and sat down. "I see you're late, Tom," said Minerva as she cut her egg and brought a small piece to her mouth. "You're usually early."

"Bad night," said Tom before tucking into a bowl of porridge.

"Oh, my," said Severus in a silky tone, "I might have thought such a thing would be impossible, given how you are the dark—"

"Severus."

Minerva eyed Severus as Tom spooned some porridge into his mouth, not even showing the least bit care toward what Snape and McGonagall might be doing. He put the spoon down and dabbed at his mouth neatly and placed that down next to his plate and bowl before finally acknowledging Severus and Minerva. "Were you saying something, Severus? I couldn't quite hear it due to the noise of the great hall. Were you implying something of my person?"

"The dark… teacher," said Severus, eyeing Tom carefully. "That is what some of the older students have been calling you and I find it somewhat fitting."

Tom's smile was a genuine one, though small. He chuckled as he turned back to his porridge and once more partook of what was given to him. "I am not surprised," said Tom.

McGonagall sighed and looked away, rubbing her temple. The pair of them were going to one day give up the ruse and someone might come along and try to take dear Professor Riddle away. In all honesty, she was very impressed with Tom and his way of teaching. He treated everyone equally with disgust and didn't play favorites when he graded, unlike Severus who played favorites to the extreme with the Slytherins in his classes. It had been a severe sore spot with her every time she caught the potions master being extra cruel to her own Gryffindors out of spite for what had happened to him in his own boyhood at Hogwarts. She had been against his being a teacher on that principle alone, but Dumbledore's judgment usually proved to be correct in the end.

She looked toward Tom once more and smiled in spite of herself. He still retained some of the strange, good looking but incredibly intimidating first year she had seen back when she was in her last year at the school. He had been hard not to notice, given how the other children seemed to dislike him on sight and most afraid of him for one reason or other. He had held the same presence as one would expect a serial killer to have in miniature form. His face was handsome but incredibly unfeeling, his attitude toward everyone except adults was absolute disgust and toward adults he seemed to fear and distrust them when they came near him.

"Thinking of fonder days won't make you any younger, Minerva," said Tom as he watched her from the corner of his eye. He still seemed to hold a fondness for her even when she clearly disliked him.

"Fonder days perhaps won't make a person younger, Tom," she said as she dabbed at her mouth, "but all one has to do to remain young is to be young at heart."

Tom snorted and finished his porridge and started munching on his toast. She smiled faintly and saw Severus eyeing her oddly. Her cheeks flushed very faintly as she turned away, resuming the usual appearance she was used to having. Tom smirked deviously toward them both before standing up and walking behind them. He stopped behind Severus and spoke in a very low voice toward him. "I'll have you know, Severus, that there is little that goes on inside this school that I don't know about intimately." Then, he walked up behind Minerva and stopped. "Minerva… mayhap you should try to remember that you're a young woman inside yourself compared the old geezer inside that sinister and greasy fellow. After all, you wouldn't want to attempt anything that might hurt him."

McGonagall opened her mouth to protest and looked around, but Tom had already left soundlessly while she had been huffing indignantly. Dumbledore looked as though he was going to laugh, but hid it behind those glasses of his and his goblet of milk. Severus glared coolly at Tom's back as he walked out of the great hall, many of the girl students watching him leave as well with sighs and giggles. Once more Severus felt like slipping the man a truth serum so that he might let slip he was really Lord Voldemort and then immediately get taken away from the school by dementors. As much as Severus entertained and relished the idea of bringing the brigand to a bad end, he knew he couldn't because of Dumbledore.

For the moment, Severus would simply lie and wait to see how things faired for their precious pet "Dark Lord". After all, one never knew if he would indeed bring about his own demise by his own hands and his own words one day.

* * *

Bill Weasley was proving to be not only a natural born leader, but also a very intelligent man. If only he wouldn't be as easy going as he tended to be about everything else around him. Tom was impressed with the boy, having enjoyed teaching him. He certainly was very good for a Gryffindor, and that was saying something.

Muriel Lomeswitch, however, just continued to be dreamy eyed and chatty with her fellow Hufflepuff girls. She reminded him of a very irritating girl from long ago, but decided not to dwell on it for long. She was friendly and kind and the perfect little Hufflepuff. Indeed, Helga Hufflepuff would have enjoyed such a girl.

Unfortunately, Tom did not and would not.

"Miss Lomeswitch, if you insist on not paying attention I'll not only have to take ten points from Hufflepuff but also give you detention with your house prefect to get you some tutoring. Your work has been deplorable."

Muriel blushed and looked as though she were either going to cry or bury her face within the hood of her school robe while a couple boys laughed. Tom didn't find the pair of boys very enjoyable either and his nerves were already on edge as of late anyway. "Ten points each from Ravenclaw. Bring your proud house more honor and stop being snobbish."

The boys stopped laughing and quieted down very quickly after that, resuming their work immediately while Muriel attempted to not look at Tom any longer. Tom rubbed his face and finished writing on the board what he wanted them to take notes on before sitting down and rubbing his temples. He had a headache that had been getting steadily worse as the day wore on. He still had no leads as to who had either sent the lethifold to Hogwarts' infirmary or had paid someone to do it; and, to top it all off, he had not had a decent night's sleep for the past week.

The room began to spin around him, the sounds of the children starting to fade away as he clenched his eyes shut and tried to drive out the pounding in his head. The sound of the cruel laugh of Truth rang out inside the room as the sound of the children taking notes and whispering to one another faded away entirely.

"I see you still can't keep away can you?" asked Truth with that sick grin plastered across his nearly nonexistent face. "Perhaps I should keep you here to entertain me some more. I already lost that boy so many years ago and his father and his brother. But, then again, I have the girl to house me for now."

Tom kept his eyes shut and tried to drown Truth out as well from his mind. "Leave me alone," he muttered. Then, the thought struck him. The girl? A house for Truth? Truth spoke of three people, a boy, a brother and a father of the brothers. He tried to remember where he had heard such a thing before, but it was really not much use for the moment. Truth's chuckling was just far too invasive. Was Amber Elric also a living embodiment of Truth in this world? If so, that would explain why she had been able to send him through the doors as a baby, though of course, she would not have known exactly what she had been doing at the time.

"Professor Riddle," asked Muriel Lomeswitch softly. "Professor Riddle!"

Tom felt pain in his head as it made contact with the corner of the desk and then on the floor. He yelped in pain and held his head for a moment before pulling his hand away to see his own filthy blood smeared on his long fingers like so much waste. He snorted and saw Muriel and several other students around him trying to get his attention and looking worried, including the pair of Ravenclaw boys he had yelled at previously. Did they care about him this much that they would worry about him even when he had so clearly been very nasty to them before?

"I'm… fine," said Tom as he slowly sat up.

One of the pair of Ravenclaw boys, Henry Toddsworth, a very studious looking boy, typically, when he wasn't picking on Muriel, put his hand on Tom's shoulder and shoved him down. "Professor, you should stay down. I remember my dad said you shouldn't move too quickly when you've hit your head. He's a doctor, you know. He knows these things."

Tom found the boy's rambling rather amusing and got up very slowly, using the desk to brace himself. "I'll be fine. It's only a hit on the head. I've suffered worse."

"Have you? Were you on the Quidditch team in school?" asked another boy, a Slytherin.

"No, I never joined in any games. I was mostly on my own," said Tom. He staggered a little and the boys made a grab for him, though he was obviously far taller and heavier than anything they might have dealt with before. He pushed them back a bit and made for the door. "You lot just finished copying your notes and do your work. I'll be back in a little while. If I haven't come back before your next class, then just see me on Wednesday for the next class." Then, he walked slowly out the door.

It was hard keeping his head in order as he walked for the infirmary. The stairs proved to be especially hazardous. He had nearly fallen twice on them. When at last he seemed to be able to function somewhat normally he realized far too quickly that he was only falling forward onto his face on the floor.

A strong pair of arms wrapped themselves around him and hauled him to his feet quickly, though this only forced him to lose whatever he had left to him. His knees buckled and he fell backward onto the strong man who held him up as well as he could. He looked around to see who it was and was surprised by the kind smile of the younger Elric brother, Alphonse. His hair was cropped short and a dull blonde to Edward's more golden hair color, but he had the same gold eyes as Edward, though not as almond shaped or somewhat slanted like Edward's were. His face was more squared than Edward's as well, while Edward's face was more rounded with a somewhat angular jaw and high cheekbones. One thing was for certain, however; Alphonse had somehow managed to inherit all the height.

"You're bleeding, Tom," said Alphonse softly. "Do you need help?"

Tom grunted. "If you keep holding me as you are, the girls of the school might get the wrong impression in their mindless heads."

Alphonse laughed and helped Tom to his feet before pulling Tom's arm around his neck and holding him to his side. "Here, I'll help you get to the infirmary. That's a pretty nasty knock you've taken. Ed's probably had worse, though."

"Your brother probably has been thrashed one too many times for simply his attitude," muttered Tom in irritation.

"Actually, you're right. Our alchemy teacher taught us both how to fight as well as how to perform our country's 'magic' as it were," said Alphonse, smiling faintly. "We both got thrashed quite a bit by that woman. She was a very frightening woman, but very nice all the same."

"A woman?" asked Tom, now intrigued. "And how would your magic be so different from ours when your own brother has described it as science and magic intertwined inside you?"

Alphonse smiled faintly and looked away. "I'll tell that story another time. For the moment, Madame Pomfrey would like to have a word with you."

Tom grunted as Alphonse pushed him down onto an infirmary bed and chuckled as he walked off. Tom frowned deeply at Alphonse's back as he walked out of the infirmary to leave him at the hands of Madame Pomfrey as she made her way over with a very disapproving look on her face.

"You! I should've known!" she said quite loudly. "What is it now? Oh never mind, I'll just get that wound fixed up and check your head for any other maladies!"

"I think I have a concussion," said Tom quietly.

"Yes, I expect you do. What on Earth did you do to yourself? You weren't out parading around the forest were you? I can't count the number of times I've had to deal with your injuries while you went sneaking around that place," grumbled Pomfrey as she dealt with his head.

Tom took it, gritting his teeth against the pain he was getting from her dealing with the cut on his head and the bump as well. "I fell asleep and fell off my chair, hit my head on the desk and then on the floor."

Madame Pomfrey gripped his chin like one would expect an overly protective grandmother to do and pursed his lips forcibly from the grip her fingers had on his chin. "You've not been sleeping well? Hmmmh, then I expect I should give you a sleeping draught for you. I have some handy, though none of the dreamless sleep draught."

"I don't particularly care, honestly," muttered Tom.

When she had finished, she gave him a sleeping potion and ordered him to stay in the infirmary so she might keep an eye on him for further problems. Soon, he was asleep and he didn't worry about anything anymore.


	6. Chapter Six

_**A/N: I'm in Houston at the moment and I so desperately miss my kitties. TwT Chewy came in as I was trying to get up and curled up on my chest, trying to purr me to death. TwT I really didn't want to get up after he did that. I hope they're okay right now. ;**_

_**Listening to Nox Arcana helps lots. XD**_

_**Chapter Six**_

_Tom ran as fast as his little feet could carry him, the bit of food he had stolen from the kitchen firmly in his hands. He knew that they didn't have enough funds in the orphanage to buy as much as they had before for the children, but he was starving and filching a bit from the other kids wouldn't hurt anyone a bit!_

_He heard Mrs. Cole run after him, a cigarette in her mouth, unlit, and a broom in her hands. The broom came down on his head and he hit the ground, rolling to a stop eventually as Mrs. Cole stopped to light the cigarette. "Honestly, you make my job so much more difficult, Riddle!" she said exasperatedly. "I've told you once, but numerous times, don't take food from the kitchen!" Then, she hit him again with the broom._

_"Ow!!" cried Tom. He gave up the parcel of food to Mrs. Cole and she picked it up from him and slapped his hands as punishment. Tom rubbed his hands meekly and looked to the ground. Why did Mrs. Cole always come after him and not the boys who went behind her back and took their own share of snacks from the kitchen? Was it simply because he was unlucky enough to get caught?_

_The images melted to find Tom as an older boy off to the side of a room and holding his hand. He was bleeding terribly from the small bite wound made by the pet rabbit of that sniveling boy who owned it. Tom had reached out to pet the rabbit and the damned thing bit him for it! The rabbit, currently, hung by its neck from a nail on the ceiling. He had wanted the thing to die and the thing floated up without the use of wings and hung itself neatly on that nail as he wanted to see._

_He HAD to be something special!_

_The sniveling little boy hid behind Mrs. Cole's dress as she stared at the rabbit in horror. "What…. What did you do?" she gasped, the color of her skin having gone white as a brand new sheet._

_"It bit me," said Tom._

_Mrs. Cole slapped Tom hard enough to send him reeling backwards before slapping him over and over again on his way down. Tom didn't cry out. He wasn't like this human. He couldn't be. The human before him simply couldn't understand what sort of new and special creature he was._

_"How did you… why did you.. HOW COULD YOU! It was just a rabbit and a pet of someone else!" screamed Mrs. Cole._

_The room began to rumble and the rabbit swung on the nail, finally falling to the ground after a moment. Mrs. Cole jerked backward and held her red and stinging hand as she gaped in horror at Tom. Without another word, she grabbed the boy and the other children who had gathered around as she pulled them away and shouted over her shoulder at Tom. "Get in your room and don't come out until I say you can! You will apologize to this boy!"_

_Tom's face stung horribly, his cheeks red from her hitting him so many times. She hadn't really been drunk this time, though he could still smell the gin she secreted away when she felt dealing with Tom was too much of a chore to deal with reality anymore. Indeed, she had been very sober when she attacked him. It only proved to him more and more than as a stinking human she was simply afraid of that which she couldn't possibly comprehend._

_Then, the light bulb above him burst, sending glass raining down over his head before he walked out to go to his room._

_All light disappeared in front of Tom's eyes. He looked around for a few moments before seeing a flicker of light in his hand. The street he was on was quiet, with no one outside in the cool night. He eyed the light of his wand and smirked before pointing it at the orphanage. He could faintly see Mrs. Cole inside her office, sipping at her gin bottle steadily. Too bad she wouldn't have a clue what was about to happen…_

_The orphanage burst into flames. First one fire would start in one area and then another would start elsewhere, but everywhere fire was bursting to light from Tom's gloriously powerful wand. He waited for a while to watch and timed the amount of time it would take the children to notice that their pretty little orphanage was burning around their pretty little heads. _

_He heard Mrs. Cole's shriek of horror first and delighted in it. She tried to get out, but he made sure that she saw him for one brief moment outside in the street, watched the horror of knowing who it was that was exacting such revenge on her and the entire house before he forced her back and blocked off all the exits. Her screams were glorious!_

_Then, the children began to scream. He heard one set of children cry out in fear before several other began screaming as well until eventually every single child was screaming from agony as the fire began to consume them. Tom's grin spread wider over his pale face, a sick pleasure coming over his handsome features and making him appear very mad. He heard people coming out of their buildings to see what was happening, so he took his cue and moved away from the blaze, though still continued to watch it from afar. Likely, another orphanage would be built again in the same place and then the place would be taken down entirely after several years, but for this one moment, he had won against the hell hole he had endured since he was born in it._

* * *

Tom opened his eyes and looked around the infirmary. He felt as though he had slept for a thousand years, his eyes grainy, but feeling a lot better than they had before. He stretched and yawned before getting up from the bed. He staggered a moment and regained his bearings before heading out of the infirmary without Pomfrey's permission.

He looked about him in the hallway as he felt his forehead. There was a small scar where he had hit his head on his desk right next to the scar where he had been hit with that toy block so long ago. A thought occurred to him as he stared out the window ahead of him in the hallway. Could the culprit have been someone he had only had mild dealings with? He vaguely remembered a few men in the past that fit the bill, specifically a half human Irishman who had gone completely insane after his own father had killed his mother, the last shred of decency in his wretched life. But that man in particular didn't stray too far from his home island typically.

"I see you are finally awake," said Alphonse as he walked out from around the corner of the hallway. He smiled at Tom faintly and put his hands in his pockets as he advanced on Tom. Tom eyed him carefully, suspicious of Alphonse's motives. Alphonse smiled ruefully and shook his head. "Still don't trust me, do you. That's all right, I don't mind."

"Why are you being so kind to me," said Tom.

"Because everyone deserves a chance and you've shown yourself to be capable of being a good person, albeit in a forced and roundabout way," said Alphonse. Tom eyed him a moment more before relaxing somewhat. Alphonse gazed at him, noting the fact that Tom still did not trust adults, even though he was one. "All right, you don't have to believe in me just yet, but I am telling the truth."

"You're not queer, are you?" Alphonse's cheeks turned red from Tom's almost offhanded question. Tom eyed him and smirked faintly as Alphonse sputtered for a moment.

Alphonse regained his composure after a moment and eyed Tom. "Are you trying to hit on me, then?"

Tom snorted and leaned against the wall behind him, crossing his arms across his chest. "All right, what do you want from me then?"

"I already told you that I think you should be given a chance to be seen and treated as a normal person," said Alphonse, his smile becoming a bit strained now, "Nothing more and nothing less. It's because I'm a very nice man, in comparison to my very hot headed brother."

Tom, for the first time in a while, laughed. It was a very strange thing to hear after watching the estranged fellow stare and sit quietly for the longest time and knowing that he was once the great and powerful Lord Voldemort not that long ago and still quite dangerous. Alphonse, thankfully, wasn't very disturbed by it, but heartened by it. "All right, fine," said Tom, "You have my attention."

"Come and play a game of chess with me. If I win, then you must continue to play chess with me every afternoon during the break before dinner until I say you can't come any more," said Alphonse, grinning at Tom, for once showing a bit of the same devious look as his older brother Edward.

"Agreed," said Tom, smirking. After all, he was good at chess and could beat most people at strategy anyway! What harm could come from playing a game? "And if I win?"

"I'll leave you alone from then on," said Alphonse.

"Deal."

* * *

Tom wanted to strangle the man before him. Alphonse had outflanked him and out matched him in more ways than one in the span of fifteen minutes. How on Earth could this man have accomplished such a thing against him?!

"You cheated, I expect," said Tom, eyeing Alphonse.

"What you see is what you get, and now you must pay the toll," said Alphonse, smiling faintly. "Every afternoon at tea you will come and I'll have the elves bring some biscuits and tea for us to snack on while we beat out our brains during the game. And, you will have to speak to me."

"About what, you evil bastard," grunted Tom as he glowered at Alphonse.

"Anything you want," said Alphonse, smiling a bit more, "But you will have to speak to me. Chess is no fun when you are simply trying to win."

Tom snorted and stood up, walking out quickly in his fury. He ignored Alphonse as the man yelled at him from his seat at the small table, "Remember! At tea time!" Tom wanted nothing to do with either of the Elric brothers or their families. It occurred to him that he had not once seen Alphonse with a woman since his incarceration inside Hogwarts, or when he was younger. He remembered that the brother had been at the school with Edward and was several years younger than his brother when they had come from Germany. Edward was likely about twenty at the time and Alphonse had to be at least fourteen, a bit older than Tom at the time. It was around the same time that new people and ghosts started appearing in the school, including that strange military man with the patch over his left eye and the gloves that sparked as he snapped his fingers together.

Tom felt a chill run through his spine as he passed through something freezing cold. He blinked and looked around behind him to see what ghost had not noticed him walking in the hallway. The military man who had tried to burn him with his magic gloves was floating there. He turned and the look in his eye was a cool one. "Hello there… Professor," said Colonel Roy Mustang in a somewhat scoffing tone.

Tom eyed him. "I thought you had disappeared as with pretty well everyone else when you died," he said.

"Oh, I wouldn't dare miss the opportunity to enjoy some afterlife time, although I can't pester Fullmetal like I used to," said Roy. He was a very handsome man, or had been when he was living. He resembled Tom in many ways, though he was broader in his chest and shoulders than Tom and his face was more squared to Tom's more angular appearance. His military uniform was an old British uniform from so very long ago, though Tom recalled him once wearing a strange blue uniform from whatever country Edward and Alphonse and Winry had come from.

"Indeed," said Tom. "Even so, why are you still about when you have nothing left to tie you here?"

Roy gazed at Tom now with a more serious look upon his face. "I have plenty to tie me here."

Tom snorted and started to walk away when he felt Roy's hand move through his chest, freezing him to his spot. "What the blazes?!" cried Tom as he moved sharply away from Roy and shivered.

Roy smirked faintly, almost arrogantly, at Tom as he held up the offending hand in question. "You have the duty of looking for a person who brought a lethifold into this school, are you not?"

"And?"

"I saw a suspicious character around here not long ago, somewhere in the forest, if you want," said Roy as he put his hands in his pockets leisurely, "Look in the forest again and, this time, don't let the caretaker get a hold of you." With that, Roy floated away as he whistled a merry tune.

Tom eyed the back of Roy Mustang as he disappeared through a wall and heard the squeals of girls before watching them fly out of the girls' restroom like a bunch of pheasants from a bush. Tom snorted and walked away from the mess, plotting out reporting the ghost to the Bloody Baron, who alone had some sway over most ghosts in the castle.


	7. Chapter Seven

_**A/N: I'm back home now! :3 I've been having a problem trying to figure out which deatheater I should use for this first kill. Someone who is relatively unknown and might possibly be either rich or know how to blackmail someone into giving him the money to pull off such a silly little stunt. **_

_**And I love the Glade Angel Whispers and Orchid candles. .**_

_**Especially the scented oil candles, which are fun to burn. w**_

_**And easily accessible… **_

_**Chapter Seven**_

Tom looked about in the Forbidden Forest. It was lunch time and he had wolfed down what he could manage at the teacher's table before scurrying off like a little kid to a playground as fast as his long legs could carry him. He was certain he must have looked incredibly odd with how quickly he made way for the forest while everyone was still making their way into the castle for lunch.

He ducked under branches and pushed through bushes and the like. He would occasionally hear the sound of hooves, but paid little attention to it. Colonel Roy Mustang had said he had seen something suspicious out in the forest, and the man had looked dead serious about such information, so Tom was out and running around with his robe flying behind him like some child's superhero fantasy.

It was then that he saw it. It was a man's set of footprints still in the dirt, though now it was almost gone from rain and leaves obscuring them. A man of an average height had been out there, either that or a midget with incredibly large feet, and the broken bits of branches told him he had sort of crashed through without much care toward whatever was out there. The man had to have been in a hurry to get whatever it was he was supposed to do done and likely made more mistakes to his presence.

Tom heard a faint ticking sound and raised an eyebrow, leaning down to the ground to find the source. There was a pocket watch, silver with a strange dragon crest on it, buried in the dirt and leaves. He pulled it out and attempted to open it, but the pocket watch was welded shut practically, though there were some places where the watch had been scratched and probably pried open with some tools at one time. He pulled his wand out and eyed the seam carefully before pointing his wand right into the seam and trying several spells to get it open. Each one seemed to only cause more damage, but the watch was still sealed as if with an even higher spell than one he could conjure up. He frowned and eyed the welding carefully. It had been a very thorough job, whoever had accomplished it.

He found a spot where he had managed to get through the silver wielding job and used that to pry it open. A piece of paper fell out of the watch as it came open. He picked up the paper and found nothing of real import on it:

_It is accomplished, the end justifying. Be happy, but remember what went wrong before to move forward one step at a time._

The handwriting was familiar, though Tom couldn't quite recall where he had seen it. He put it to the back of his mind as he inspected the inside of the watch. An inscription was scratched into the metal as if with some sort of ice pick or other sort of tool:

_don't forget 3, Oct. 11_

Tom frowned even more at the inscription. Was the note to remind the holder of the watch that the previous etching was now void? He rubbed the bridge of his nose as he crouched down to think a moment. He put the paper back inside the watch and then closed it up, before he noticed something was inscribed, properly this time, on the back of it. He stood up sharply as he recognized the name as one that Colonel Roy Mustang had said before. It read "Full Metal" on the back of the watch.

Now, what was Edward doing outside in this part of the forest for?

Edward sat in his office, frowning deeply as he fiddled the place where he usually kept his pocket watch, a relic if ever there was one, from a time long ago and a place so very far away. There was a knock on his door that stopped him from his thoughts, a very stiff and formal sounding knock if one could ever sound stiff and formal while knocking on a door. Edward snorted and got up slowly, a soft squeak of metal moving and needing a bit of oil sounding as he stood. He limped slightly as he walked and opened the door, groaning at the sight of the one man he hoped never he would never have to deal with while he was a teacher.

"I need to have a word with you, Professor Elric," said Tom.

"Go away," said Edward gruffly before attempting to close the door on the gigantic tree like teacher in comparison to Edward's close to average height build. Tom, however, seemed to manage to get in even with Edward trying his hardest to close the door on him. Edward finally just gave in and partially limped to his desk. "Fine, what do you want?"

Tom eyed him before dropping the pocket watch onto Edward's desk. Edward looked at the watch, a very strange look in his gold eyes as he gazed at it. "I would like to know why it is I found this out in the forest… with footprints around it about," he looked down at Edward's feet and smirked very faintly, "your size."

Tom noticed something rather peculiar about Edward, now that he actually got a good look at him. He always wore gloved over his hands and never pulled his sleeves back, nor did he wear short pants around people, even on his days off. As Tom could attest to, even Dumbledore wore Bermuda shorts when he felt like it, which caused Tom a great deal of trauma back when he was in school. And Winry, his wife, always kept a tool box around and machine oil. Tom had assumed she was into working on engines like car engines and she was simply a tomboy, but he also vaguely remembered that she would help out in the infirmary as well. And didn't Mad-Eye Moody have a prosthetic leg on the last time Tom saw him?

"I have no idea, honestly," said Edward. He glared coolly at Tom. "Are you implying I'm a suspicious sort of person, Snake Face?"

Tom's eyes turned red for a brief moment, causing Edward's heart to jump in his chest, though he refused to show it. Tom grunted and opened the pocket watch. "I also wish to know what this is about."

"It's old history," said Edward as he took the watch with his white gloved hands and put the paper back into it. He put his hands on the watch and an alchemic circle formed underneath the watch without Edward having to draw it, the watch once more resealing itself and this time looking like it was brand new. "I've been meaning to fix it," he muttered to himself as he eyed it.

"What is the significance of the date on the inside?" asked Tom as he continued to stand over Edward.

"Trying to intimidate me isn't going to work, snake-face," said Edward as he smirked up at Tom, "I'm too old for it and can still kick your ass if I wanted to."

"I think you'll find I'm a lot harder to harm than you think, midget," said Tom smoothly.

A vein throbbed in Edward's forehead that forced him to calm himself. However, when he reached up to rub his temple, Tom's long fingers closed around Edward's smaller wrist. Edward was suddenly pulled across the desk by his wrist and held down with a knee to his throat as Tom pulled his arm up to his face to inspect. "There has always been something very off about you and your wife and your brother. Even more so about the people who seemed to come out of no where inside the school for no reason at all and the ghosts of people whom I've never seen the like before." Tom smirked at Edward, his eyes red once more. "Tell me, Edward Elric, just what is it that you hide under all these clothes?"

Tom pulled the sleeve back and pulled the glove off Edward's hand carefully, noting how Edward didn't struggle anymore. "It's no secret, Riddle, it's just habbit. I've been doing it since I was twelve."

The arm that Tom revealed was metal, entirely metal, with small noises indicating a sort of motor running inside the arm and other mechanics at work. It was certainly something Tom had never really paid much attention to before. "Prosthetics? Of this advanced make? Really, wizards are most interesting and advanced people."

"Winry makes them, she has since she was a little girl helping her grandmother," said Edward. "Let me go, damn it!" He kicked Tom with his right leg and pulled his hand away from Tom's scrutiny as Tom grunted in pain, rubbing the spot where Edward had kicked him very hard.

"The left leg is a prosthetic as well, isn't it," said Tom after a moment of getting through the pain that Edward had caused him.

"Yes, yes," said Edward, "I lost it because of an accident and my arm due to me trying to do something else that was stupid. What's it to you?"

Tom watched Edward for a few minutes, thinking things over inside his head as he sat down on a chair opposite of the desk. "Why was it you were outside, Edward?"

"I have no idea how my watch got outside or what you mean, Riddle. I'm telling the truth," said Edward, getting irritated now. Tom gazed at him very discerningly, making Edward uncomfortable now. "What?"

Tom's gaze grew piercing, almost hypnotizing as they continued to stay red and demonic looking. Edward immediately felt as though his mind were being picked apart without his say so. Tom, however, continued to stay calm and pushed forward into Edward's mind, boring his eyes right into Edward's until Edward gave a shout of surprise.

_There was a woman with long chestnut brown hair and a kind smile, having much the same look as Alphonse did. She disappeared after a moment and there was a grave before him with a name written on it in English: "Trisha Elric – Loving mother of two children". Two boys, a very young Alphonse and Edward, sat before the tombstone, Alphonse sniffling and sobbing on his knees. Edward clenched his small fists and said "Let's bring her back."_

Tom bored down on Edward like a great hungry wolf, red eyes now almost glowing in the half light of the office. "Tell me, Edward," he said softly, slowly, "What happened to you that you should have two missing limbs?"

"Sh…shut up," said Edward, straining to get control.

_Edward and Alphonse put their hands to a very complicated alchemy circle and watched with glee as it lit up, the contents of the pan at the center of the circle starting to disappear. Then, a pair of great doors decended on Edward and Truth same before him, grinning that manic grin of his. "You're such an idiot," said Truth before Edward's leg materialized on his body and Edward was forced away from the super knowledge of the doors by extreme pain in his now missing left leg._

"And the arm? What caused that, hmmm?" asked Tom softly.

"_Al!" cried Edward as he saw his brother disappear entirely. It had gone wrong, entirely wrong. He should've known better than to play God like that and now his brother was stuck behind the gate! He tied something around his bleeding leg and then dipped his fingers into the meaty stub that was left. He winced as he did so and painted a strange archaic looking circle on the inside of a suit of armor. "Give me back my brother," he snarled through the pain and blood loss, "GIVE HIM BACK, NOW!"_

_Truth grinned at him once more, Edward's right arm now appearing on Truth. "You really are a stupid kid, you know?" said Truth._

"GET OUT OF MY HEAD!!" snarled Edward and made to punched Tom, but Tom moved back quickly to avoid it. Edward yelped out as Tom grabbed his face and shoved him backward into the desk. "ARGH!"

"Shush, you fool," said Tom softly, his eyes boring into Edward's still. "If you fight me it'll only bring you a lot of pain," he said, smirking faintly. "Now, tell me," he said, "about the forest."

_Edward stood outside. He was in the forbidden forest, his watch in hand. He stared ahead as though something was in front of him, but nothing was there at all. A voice spoke out as if from everywhere, a voice that was very persuasive. "Drop the clock and stomp it into the ground, Professor Elric," it said smoothly._

_Edward dropped the watch and shoved it into the ground with his foot, still staring ahead at nothing. The voice rang out smoother still. "Now, pick up the cage and take it into the school infirmary. Take it to where that traitor is."_

Tom blinked and moved away from Edward, Edward now white as a sheet and sweating, a horrified look on his face that made him look more like the boy before than the man he was now. "It… I… Why don't I remember… YOU!"

Tom was tossed backward as Edward's metal fist collided with his jaw. Pain shot through his skull as he hit the ground and rolled. He felt Edward pounce on him and pulled him up by his collar to punch him again, but the sound of the door opening stopped him as well as Winry's voice.

"Edward!" she cried. "Stop that! What are you doing to Mr. Riddle!"

"He attacked me!" shouted Edward.

Alphonse came in from behind Winry and hauled Edward back off of Tom. Tom's face was bleeding horribly from his mouth, his jaw broken from Edward's prosthetic fist colliding with his face. Edward huffed and gripped his head as he continued to glare at Tom. Alphonse frowned and looked between Edward and Tom before deciding that his brother wasn't going to tackle the man again just yet. He bent down and hauled up Tom as well as he could against him and started out the door.

Winry smacked Edward with her wrench. "What on Earth were you doing? You could've killed him that way!"

"He invaded my head," said Edward, now feeling shaken from the experience.

Winry gazed at her husband and kissed his cheek. "Come on, let's get to Professor Dumbledore and sort this out. As much as he warrants it, we can't kill him yet." Edward gave a short laugh at this and kissed Winry. She smiled faintly and pulled him up slowly. "Come on," she said with effort, she was getting entirely too old to be doing this much exercise so much, "we should get to Professor Dumbledore and tell him everything that happened."


	8. Chapter Eight

_**A/N: I enjoy writing for Tom's brain. :3 Maybe that's a bad thing. .**_

_**Chapter Eight**_

Tom groaned and reached up with his hand to touch his face, checking to see if his jaw was all right now. Well, he would have except he found that he was once more tied down in a chair and he was once more sitting in that awful little room that they had put him in previously. He chuckled to himself and leaned back in the chair a bit. They were entirely too predictable, really. As soon as he used one of his many talents they were going to shove him right back to square one where he would not be able to move until he proved that he was still their little pet dark wizard.

"What are you laughing at, eh?" Tom heard the voice and rolled his eyes. Alastor had once more been called out and he was grinning at Tom with a mouth that was missing a couple of teeth. "They call me out to get me to get a nice handle on you. Personally, I'd rather just kill you here and now."

Tom eyed him, noting the prosthetic leg that showed from under the kilt he wore. It looked exactly like Edward's arm. "Tell me, Mr. Moody," said Tom softly, "When did you lose your leg?"

"You should know that. It was one of your lot that took it," grunted Moody.

"Was it? I wouldn't know, given that I have been gone a year or so and before that you had a leg," said Tom, eyeing Moody once more.

Alastor Moody glared at him and grinned more, laughing. "Fine to you and all, Lord Voldemort, but you're in deep shit now."

"Oh, using my proper name now? At least you acknowledge as such." Tom watched Moody laughed hard now and smirked faintly, turning back around to lean his head back against the back of the hard wood chair. "Not too many people would be so amused as you, you know."

"Not too many people are as adamant about ridding the world of people like you and yours as I," said Alastor, "But I know a good opponent when I see one. You've got to think like your opponent in this business. You can't hunt down dark wizards unless you know exactly what they'll use and who they'll use."

Tom gazed ahead of him at the wall, smiling very faintly, a genuine smile of appreciation. For the first time, Tom really sort of appreciated the bluntness and dedication of the man near him. He was an intelligent one, though a bit mad in some aspects. He prized intelligence almost more than he did a pure wizard. Most people were content to be dumb followers, a flock of sheep that would do whatever someone else with brains told them to. It was the ones who did not do what the masses did; the ones that chose on their own how they would perceive and do things that he appreciated the most. However, for simple purposes, having the sheep on hand wasn't a bad thing.

He closed his eyes and listened to the sounds coming through the walls, though it wasn't much, admittedly. He heard Dumbledore speaking to someone, probably Edward and Alphonse, but couldn't make out entirely what they said. So, until he was to be abused once more, he decided he would just enjoy what silence he had.

* * *

"Edward, please tell me what happened," said Dumbledore, placing a hand on Edward's shoulder.

Edward was having a crisis of self at that moment. It really had been so very long since he had had such a moment. He was holding his head in his hands as he leaned over his knees to think about what had occurred. Legilimency was a hard thing to accomplish and not performed by those with no talent for it. So, why was it that he could not recall such an event occurring when it required the victim to recall those details himself?

"He came in with my watch and put it on my desk. He had said he had found it outside and that it had been pressed into the ground," said Edward slowly, rubbing his face, "He pried open my watch and read the inside contents of it before coming to me about it. To me, my watch had been missing for many days. I don't recall when it went missing, but I gave up about looking for it since then.

"Then, he attacked me. He wanted to know why it was that I was missing my arm and my leg and used that spell to get it from my head." Edward rubbed his face once again and groaned. Inside, his body had grown numb. Had he really been so weak as to let some death eater use him to harm one of the students? He would've laughed if it wasn't so pathetic. He'd been through the worst things anyone could imagine, had faced pain upon pain over the years from his automail prosthetic surgery to his brother's metal body acting up to losing his father, his son and almost losing his granddaughter Amber.

"He is hard to drive out, Edward," said Dumbledore, "Don't think of yourself as pathetic or weak."

"He pulled out Al and I at our mom's gravestone, he pulled out our attempt to resurrect her and my losing my leg and Al losing his body, then he stopped for a moment and pulled out my losing my arm," said Edward slowly, still covering his face with his hands, "And then he somehow pulled something that I didn't remember before from my head."

"What was it, Edward?" asked Dumbledore softly.

"I… I was in the forest and someone was speaking to me and told me to drop my watch and then stomp it into the ground before telling me to take a cage and release 'it' into the infirmary 'where that traitor is'," said Edward. "Sir, I don't remember any of this happening."

"Imperious curse, probably," said Alphonse.

"But, what was I doing out there to begin with, huh?" Edward grunted and rubbed his face, chuckling. "Geez, I'm still so pathetic."

Winry's arms around him made him stop. He looked to her and smiled faintly before wrapping an arm around her waist and rubbing her side. She smiled faintly and nuzzled into his jaw to comfort him.

Dumbledore was thinking very hard at that moment. Edward could see it in those blue eyes of his. Edward knew that if he could not remember on his own what happened then perhaps Tom could get the rest out of him, but he felt sick at the thought of letting the bastard back into his mind.

"Come on," said Edward as he stood up slowly, his left knee giving him trouble once more. It squeaked with the need for more oil in its wheels. "I'm letting him do it again."

"Ed?" asked Alphonse. "Are you sure?"

"If he managed to get that out when I couldn't remember it on my own, then he should be able to get the rest out with no problem, right?"

"Yes," said Dumbledore.

"Then, I'm letting him finish so we can get the full picture." With that, Edward marched into the small room where Alastor and Tom were. It was a very dirty feeling that coursed through Edward as he saw Tom. The equivalent to his feelings at that moment could be likened to a woman who had been raped and then forcing herself to endure it again. As he gazed at Tom's placid face Edward once more wanted to smash it in with his right fist.

"Come again, have you?" asked Tom softly, just now opening his eyes slowly.

Edward glared at him. "Just get it over with. I need to know what made me go out of the school to the forest."

Tom smirked faintly. "Then, give me my wand."

Alastor grunted and took a swig from the hip flask he kept on him. Dumbledore nodded to him, making Alastor very unhappy as he pulled the wand out of his coat and handed it off to Dumebldore. It was soon in Tom's grasp and Edward once more saw the smirk spreading across Tom's handsome features.

"Keep grinning like that and I'll smash it back into your skull again," grunted Edward sourly.

Tom looked over at Edward and once more Edward felt as though he were pinned down just with the look Tom was giving him. Once more he couldn't even blink away from Tom's piercing eyes as they bleed with red and became like the eyes he had so long associated with Lord Voldemort. "Tell me, Edward," said Tom, "all about the forest when you dropped your watch in the dirt…"

_Edward ran out of the castle. He was running as fast as his old legs could carry him, and given how spry he was normally anyway, that was a fair speed. The noise in the forest was loud as the person ahead was practically diving into the forest. When Edward made it past the edge, he tripped on something that forced his face into the ground. Then..._

_Edward could hear someone saying his name. It was a very persuasive sound and it made Edward feel heavy. He found himself moving on his own without his say so. _

_"Drop the clock and stomp it into the ground, Professor Elric," bade a voice that seemed to come from everywhere. Edward did as he was told and waited for further instructions. The voice chuckled softly before speaking again, "Now pick up the cage and take it into the infirmary. Take it to where that traitor is."_

_Edward walked over to something and picked it up. It was a box with no holes in it, but a small door with a latch on it. Then, Edward walked off with the box to the school. The moon was very full in the sky and the clouds were building for a good rain that night._

Edward panted and moved back, rubbing his head with his hands. His head pounded with the force that Tom had put into going into his mind. Winry clasped her hands together and watched with a very worried expression and a very vengeful expression toward Tom. "I went out," said Edward after a moment, "I went out chasing someone into the forest…"

"He was chasing the fellow that brought the lethifold into the school and then was forced to have the Imperious curse placed upon him. Then, he was forced to drop the watch and take what seems to be the box that held the lethifold into the school where I was, claiming me a traitor," said Tom. He snorted and laughed. "Such stupidity! At least the stupid ones are easy to manipulate."

Dumbledore nodded and considered what transpired. Tom eyed him for a moment and just went back to leaning into the chair he was tied to. "Tom, what do you think happened?"

"Personally?"

"Yes. What you would have done that sort of thing for," said Dumbledore.

"I'd have done that to make it seem as though the cocktail shrimp here was the one that put the lethifold into the school," said Tom. A thought occurred to him and he sat up straight with a far more serious on his face as he considered several things at once. He grinned. "Of all the really stupid tricks…."

"What is it, Tom?" asked Dumbledore, a strange sort of knowing look in his gaze. He smiled faintly. "Did you think of something else?"

"Get me out of this chair," said Tom.

"Oh, for the love of God, just let me take him away to the Ministry and be done with it!" growled Mad-Eye.

Tom rolled his eyes and flicked his wand, the rope around his arms and legs untying automatically. He stood up and straightened his shirt and tie before heading toward the door. Alphonse stood in the way.

"What did you think of, Tom?" asked Dumbledore again.

"Why should I tell you, you old queen," asked Tom with some irritation. Dumbledore now looked as though he might hit Tom himself. Edward would have been amused if getting the information out of Tom wasn't the priority. Tom saw the flare of Dumbledore's anger and smirked very faintly in triumph. "I'm about to substantiate a theory inside my skull. Is that a problem with you, or do you simply have a problem with a handsome man such as myself that isn't going to take it up the bum from you."

It was the first time Albus Dumbledore had shown true anger for a long time. With a surprising amount of speed, he moved past Edward and punched Tom on the jaw with far more power than any had really thought he could possess. Tom's back it the door frame behind him and staggered slightly from the impact. Dumbledore, meanwhile, rubbed his hand and glared down at Tom, regaining what composure he had left to him. Tom laughed after a moment, not even bothering to check to see if his jaw was all right or not. Tom looked up at him through his black hair and grinned broadly. "That's the first time that you've actually hit someone as far as I've seen. Congratulations, Albus Dumbledore."

Edward and Alphonse both reeled backward when they saw the flash of light glinting off of metal. There was a clang and Winry was on Tom in a trice. "You pompous ass! How dare you speak so rudely! We all took you in and allowed you that damned position and here you are raping my husband's brain and then laughing at us! Well, I won't take it anymore! I'm tired of your smug attitude and won't stand for it a moment longer!" screamed Winry as she continued to hit Tom with her wrench.

Edward and Alphonse both had to pull Winry off from Tom to keep her from killing him, although they both entertained the thought that she would kill him. They simply couldn't allow her to stain herself that way. Tom lay on the ground, very still and his head was bruised and bloody from where she hit him.

However, that didn't seem to stop Tom from being conscious. He reached up and touched his pounding head, pulling his hand away to see the blood smeared on his long fingers once more. "Just when I think I'm all healed up, I end up seeing my own filthy blood again."

Edward held Winry against his chest as Alphonse put a hand on Edward's shoulder. Dumbledore watched silently for a moment. "What was it you were going to do, Tom?" he asked in what sounded like a resigned tone.

Tom flicked his gaze toward Dumbledore, now serious. He got up slowly, using the doorframe behind him as a crutch to lean on, and gazed at him with a most piercing stare. It was a staring contest to end all staring contests and Dumbledore seemed to win at it when Tom finally snorted and looked away slightly toward something else. "I have a theory," he said, "that involves a certain member I know of that is more accomplished at the Imperious curse than most I've seen."

"Which member?" asked Dumbledore.

"Mulciber, though I can't be certain, since I seem to recall that he was put into Azkaban," said Tom.

"He was and he's in there for good," said Mad-Eye, "though I wouldn't put it past one of your lot somehow managing to get him out."

"It's hard to move someone out of Azkaban with all those dementors running around," said Edward.

"Try near impossible," grunted Moody.

"There is never an 'impossble' task, Mad-Eye Moody," said Tom, "Only extremely difficult tasks. There is always a possibility to accomplish what you desire, the only problem is figuring out how to get at it. I wouldn't put it past some of the smarter ones in my old circle to know exactly how to fix it so that Mulciber has the chance to get out of there without raising any alarms.

"Once out, all Mulciber would have to do would be to get someone to give him a creature that could kill silently, but effectively and get away. The moon wasn't full that night and it wasn't about to rain. It was a clear night with a half moon out, giving out plenty of light to see the lethifold on little miss Muriel Lomeswitch.

"The prints found outside were relatively new, possibly only a couple weeks old at best. That means what had happened to Edward was to make him a scapegoat for the real culprit who did get into the school the night you lot decided I might be better suited to stay here as a teacher and I refused. By that point it had been at least two weeks of my being there and someone would likely have said something, maybe not even realize they said something, as to someone being in the school that did not belong. An off handed comment to a parent from my circle such as 'yeah, there was this bloke who looked like a real mess in the school just today' and that parent would then inquire more into who had suddenly appeared at the school." Tom smirked faintly, "Which is why I was leaving. I was going to see if perhaps dear Mulciber was plotting another way of attacking me, probably this time without all the pomp and circumstance to off me in person rather than with a third party. Edward was just a ruse to cover for his blunder."

"Edward, likely, heard him trying to find away back inside again to have another go at me when it occurred to him that Edward could be of use so he hid in the forest, tripped Edward up to put him in one spot and then put the curse on him to make him take a phony cage off toward the castle so that Edward would have his own motions buried inside his own head, but not remember them, and if he had to be forced to recall something, then it would come out and make it look like he did all the work."

Edward rubbed his face and groaned. Dumbledore had a small smile on his face now as he gazed at Tom. Tom started out the door, but Moody stood up. "Albus, let me take him."

"No, I think he'll behave," he said softly. "Thank you for coming, Alastor."

Alastor grunted and crossed his arms in front of his chest. "If you ask me, it's a right blunder to keep that man around still, even after he attacked Ed."

"And I think he's an asset," said Dumbledore. "It just takes a little while to get through that thick shell he keeps around himself at all times."

* * *

Tom spent the night in the infirmary to recover from the blows Winry's wrench had given him. When he was well enough to leave, he then went to Dumbledore to request a leave of absence. Dumbledore gave it to him, though not without some trepidation, and watched Tom leave.

Tom did his best to investigate the forest, but figured that would be useless, so he went off to Hogsmeade, the wizarding town next to Hogwarts, to further his investigation. It made him incredibly angry that one of his own was after him, but it also gave him a sort of pride that some were that dedicated to him, though really the lot of them were sheep that he did what he wanted with.

In the end, all that mattered to him was that he was alive and he could care less if the death eaters ever rose up again.


	9. Chapter Nine

_**A/N: hello all. :3 enjoying Tom some more? :3**_

_**Chapter Nine**_

Hogsmeade was as he remembered it when he was a boy coming to the school. It was bustling with activity, wizards and witches and children going into shops and coming out of them, going about on their daily business before heading to their homes. He had only a few days to see if he could figure out where Mulciber had holed himself up and flush him out, so he did the best he could to poke around the village and gather any information he could from the residents.

There was a problem, however. No one knew anything about what he was asking.

Of course, he couldn't very well ask, "Hello, how are you? Oh, good! Tell me, have you seen an older fellow around looking as though he just stepped out from the roaring twenties and has a dark mark on his arm? Hmm? Yes, he's a death eater and likely he'll kill you as soon as look at you if you saw it, so I suppose not. Oh well!" He'd be reported to the Ministry of Magic in a trice and then he would have to run right back into Hogwarts just to get some cover.

Tom groaned as he rubbed his face. The third day in and he was lodging inside the Three Broomsticks for the time being. He was currently eating his supper and watching Madame Rosmerta waltz around in those pretty shoes of hers. The door opened to the pub area of the inn and Tom saw a man who made his brain feel very strange. He remembered his face, but for the life of him he couldn't recall why. He was a tall man, very lanky, very Irish looking, with longish blood red hair and bright yellow eyes like an owl's that were a bit larger than normal. The entire eye, in fact, was yellow save for a very small amount of white in the corners. His ears had slight points on them, though he almost couldn't tell that by looking at him. He had to stare at him for a little while to be able to see such points. He was dressed fairly, though nothing fancy, with a fur lined coat on that looked handmade.

The man looked around and frowned before walking out again, leaving Tom's brain still prickling with the need to know where and how he knew the strange looking bird-like man. Tom stood up to follow the man when he saw another fellow walk in. Mulciber was wearing his typical garb of pinstripe suit and robes. Tom wanted to snort in his general direction, but he needed to make certain of who he was seeing; if it wasn't Mulciber, but a man who simply looked like him, then that would be a very big problem.

The red haired man walked in again and glared at the man Tom figured was Mulciber, putting his heavily gloved hands into the pockets of his coat. "You came here, did you?" said the red haired bird-man with a fair Irish accent, "You asked me to come away from my duty to force me here."

Irish. Was this the man Tom had met and recruited in Ireland that one time? The man who was half some strange bird like creature like a harpy? Tom didn't know too much about some of the more sentient creatures of the magic world, but he was certain he didn't think actual harpies lived and bred with humans typically. Tom rubbed his face and looked around for a way to make himself disappear in the crowd of people so he might fool the bird-man's senses.

"Not here," said Mulciber in a hushed tone and grabbed the bird-man by his collar and hauled him out the door. Tom chose this moment to dash out as fast as he could to follow them. If only he had something like an invisibility cloak or such like thing to cover himself with. Not only were they horrendously expensive and hard to find, but likely if he managed to find one for a decent price it still wouldn't help him stay invisible on account of the cloak being old enough that it was no longer useful anymore.

He found them stopped near the shrieking shack and hid away as well as he could nearby. Mulciber let go of the bird-man and moved a little ways away. The bird-man looked murderous at being treated the way he had been. "You're pretty ungrateful for a convict," muttered the bird-man, snorting at Mulciber, "I break you out and this is the thanks I get. Tch. Tch. Tch. Your mam wouldn't be too happy with you, no she wouldn't."

"Shut up, you crazy bird-brain," grunted Mulciber. "I told you to get one of the others as well as me."

A very big black raven flapped down near Tom on he ground. It snapped its beak and looked up at him, cocking its head slightly as it did so before walking around looking for something to scavenge on the ground.

"And I told you that I could only get one o' you out, so be grateful for the small wonder I managed for you," said the bird-man. "I told you then that you were on your own, on your own and to leave me be," sang the bird-man, "But you didn't and I had to leave my precious cave of solitude thanks to you interrupting me."

Mulciber was beginning to look like Tom felt at that point; this bird-man really was insane and probably only on the edge of being sane for the moment, rapidly getting closer to the insane mark as he continued to stay around him. "Just stop your chattering and listen." He smirked and looked around, moving closer into the bird-man, "I've been told that one of us is hiding inside Hogwarts. I tried to kill him in a round about way, but I guess I shouldn't have tried since he's still movin' about."

The bird-man eyed him in an interested fashion, for once focusing in on Mulciber rather than teetering on whatever knife point he had inside his brain. "One of us is in the school and it's Severus Snape," said the bird-man, "but, oh wait, you've been holed up in Azkaban with the pretty dementors paying you homage every day, right? I suppose with that paradise you wouldn't have seen or heard a thing about Severus getting into the school."

"Severus, eh? Always knew he was a traitor," mumbled Mulciber. "Should've said so to the Lord, but he didn't seem to care."

"The Dark Lord, indeed," said the bird-man softly, "I remember the night he disappeared. Too bad that stupid Knight fellow got in my way. But his heart was delicious all the same." Mulciber looked visibly ill at that point.

Tom recalled something from that night when he heard that. The red haired man ripping the heart out of a blonde haired man that had run outside with a dark haired man and had been trying to run at the death eaters gathered around him when he was Voldemort. At that point, they had run into Hughes Elric and his wife and child and Tom had disappeared into the gates of Truth.

"Fine, if you want, you can have Severus' heart after I kill him, if that's the man I heard about." Mulciber straightened his coat and hat before stopping at the bird-man's hand. "What?"

"It isn't Snape," said the bird-man, lazily looking in Tom's direction. Tom frowned and let his wand drop down into his hand from his shirt sleeve. "We seem to have a spy listening in."

Tom yelped when the raven suddenly flapped it wings and attacked him. He pulled his wand up and shot a spell at the bird blindly as he attempted to keep the bird from his face. He felt a pair of arms wrap around him and shoved the wand back into his sleeve quickly to keep them from seeing it. "Get his wand!" snarled the bird-man. Tom had a lot of trouble trying to keep him from pulling his arms out of their sockets. The bird-man had a lot of strength in that wiry body of his that didn't seem to appear visually on him.

"I think he dropped it when the bird attacked. Here," Mulciber brought his wand up to Tom's face and smirked with that awful smile of his, "You've been a naughty man, mate. Didn't your mum ever tell you not to go eaves dropping?"

"I never knew my mum, thanks," muttered Tom. He received a sharp hit to his stomach in response from Mulciber. One thing was for certain; at least the man was good at intimidation. Unfortunately, Tom wasn't intimidated by him, only by the freak behind him about ready to rip his arms off and beat him with them.

"Aww, the poor man never had a mum," said Mulciber, mocking him with a babying tone, "I expect he never had a dad neither, eh?" He tutted at Tom and shook his head. "Too many orphans about, y'know, mate. And you're a right gentlemanly looker, ain't you."

"Funny thing coming from you, Mulciber, you insane little man," said Tom, smirking faintly. He was really appreciating the loving care that Mulciber seemed to be enjoying in mocking and humiliating him.

"Oh, so you know me, eh? Smart old man you are." He grinned and held up his own way to Tom's face. "But not smart enough."

Tom kicked him between his legs and thrust his head backward into the bird-man's nose. The bird-man yelped in pain as he reeled backward from the hit, giving Tom a chance to pull out his wand again and send a binding spell at him. Then, he grabbed for Mulciber, but found he had started running, or really, staggering awkwardly but very quickly, off into the crowd. Tom doubted he'd be able to move very well what with his groin probably swelling and turning black and blue from Tom kicking him.

He decided he would come back to get the bird-man after he got Mulciber and ran off into the crowd. After all, not much a man could do when he had a full body bind on him but sit and wait for it to be taken off. He wanted him alive. He wanted to know more about this crazy Irish freak that fell into his lap like this.

Tom moved through the crowd quickly, trying to get close to Mulciber, but it seemed impossible. How on Earth could the man move when he quite clearly got the worst hit that any man could suffer? He finally grabbed him and pulled him in between two buildings, shoving him against the side of one and getting into his face. "I've got you!" cried Tom, and then he got a good look at the man he nabbed. "Wait, who are you? Never mind. Off you go."

He grunted and rubbed his face as he heard the man he got run away. Then, he heard another set of footsteps move slowly closer to him. He heard the intake of a breath, for a spell likely, and shot around with his wand in hand. He was a moment too late as he was shot backward into the back of a store by a blast from Mulciber's wand.

"Now, that wasn't nice, mate," said Mulciber, staggering as he used the wall beside him to walk toward Tom. Tom was sprawled against the inventory boxes he had landed on after hitting the wall behind him with his back. Mulciber chuckled. "Nice hit, though. Didn't think a man would do that, but you never know. I expect I'll have to wait around for a while to heal my bits n' pieces up before I can go back to what I do best."

Tom watched him, his wand not far from him, but not in his hand. "You've got a lot of nerve to be so rude to me, you know."

"Oh what, the teacher can't take being mocked? Oh boo hoo," said Mulciber.

"It's that obvious, is it?" asked Tom, smirking faintly. "I thought I was dressed so nicely, too."

Mulciber snorted and put a silencing charm on Tom. "Now they can't hear you scream, can they?" said Mulciber, grinning at Tom with that horrible smile of his once more. "_Crucio_."

Tom opened his mouth to let out a scream, but could not utter a sound as pain shot through his entire body. His entire body was on fire as jerked on the ground convulsively. It felt like an eternity of agony, but finally it stopped and Mulciber had Tom's wand in his hand and was eyeing it carefully. He swished his own wand at Tom and Tom found he could hear himself panting weakly from his curled up position on the ground.

Mulciber kneeled down to Tom and held Tom's wand up by the tip to him, letting it swing like a pendulum before his eyes. "Tell me, mate," said Mulciber, "And I'll know if you're lyin'… Where did you steal this wand?"

Tom wanted to laugh, but all he could manage was a strangled snort. After a long moment, he took a deep breath and managed to croak out, "I bought it."

Mulciber tutted at Tom for a moment and kicked him in the ribs. "Bad move, mate. You couldn't have bought it unless the one you bought it from was a thief. This is you-know-who's wand and I don' reckon he would have allowed it to fall into anyone's hands, even after he disappeared." He leaned down again and Tom could smell the rotted stench of his breath as it fanned over his face. "So I ask again, my friend, where did you steal the wand from?"

Tom smirked faintly. "I already told you, Mulciber, I bought it. Funny how you managed to pay attention to my wand and not enough toward its true master." With what strength Tom had regained, he moved his legs sharply into Mulciber's knee, shoving one backwards with a sickening crack. Mulciber couldn't even cry out in pain from the sheer agony of the move Tom had given him. Tom sighed in relief and chuckled loudly. It was a chilling tone that would send shivers up a person's spine to hear it. He picked up Mulciber's wand and his own and smirked as he pulled Mulciber closer by his collar.

"You see, I bought it when I was a boy and just starting Hogwarts, Mulciber," he said softly, touching the tip of his wand to Mulciber's nose, Mulciber's eyes wide as realization dawned in them. Tom's eyes bled with red and the pupils became cat like once more as he gazed down at the man with the broken knee. "Good man, Mulciber, you at least know who your opponent is now." Then, he slammed his head into the ground, knocking the man out.

Tom noticed that the raven he had shot a spell at was sitting at the end of the alleyway, watching them. Tom narrowed his eyes at it and lifted his wand to curse it again, but it flew off in a flurry of black feathers, leaving Tom with Mulciber. Tom grunted and picked Mulciber up against his side, though this was a bit difficult, given how broad Mulciber was, and staggered back toward the Shrieking Shack where the bird-man should have been left still.

Unfortunately, when he got there, Tom found that the bird-man had disappeared from the spot he had left him and all that was left were black feathers. Did that freak sprout wings and fly off like that raven? Tom grunted at the idea and decided he would just take Mulciber back to Hogwarts, however difficult that task was with all those people staring at him and whispering. With that, he bade farewell to Hogsmeade and made his way to the Three Broomsticks to gather his things, pay his tab and leave with the unconscious death eater in tow.

"You've got to be joking."

* * *

"I hardly ever joke," said Tom.

Edward looked at Mulciber and grunted, wanting to just gut him right then and there, but decided Tom was right for once. "Fine. Let's get him to the Ministry. Dumbledore went off for some meeting and left McGonagall in charge." He eyed Tom after a moment, frowning. "And you, snake demon? What of you? You might be recognized by the Ministry officials. You should just leave him to me."

"As entertaining a thought that might be, Edward, I'd rather let the Ministry take him." After all, if the Ministry found that Tom had brought the criminal in, then they would start thinking him a "good guy" and leave him alone. It was a thought that struck Tom when he was coming back to Hogwarts. The Ministry was comprised of some of his followers and great lot of fools that were incredibly gullible. It wasn't so much that he had plans to try again, but it was more that if they found that Tom Riddle was trustworthy, then Lord Voldemort would be the only one they would care about and leave him alone for the rest of his life. It would certainly stick in Mad-Eye Moody's craw to have the great and powerful Lord Voldemort labeled a hero in the Ministry of Magic's eyes and that amused Tom even more than kicking the man in the face.

Edward eyed him a moment and snorted before he hauled the man up. "All right, I'll help you then."

"Good man, Edward. You were always so helpful," said Tom, his voice almost cheerful. Edward shuddered involuntarily at Tom's tone and wondered not for the first time if Tom were actually truly insane and just giving a good cover for it. He certainly had to be to want to ruin his soul the way he had before and to kill all those people. And then there was his claim that Muggle-borns were little more than muggles who stole a real witch or wizard's wand and started trying to round them up. Thankfully, he never got into the Ministry before with that or his idea might have actually followed through.

However, Edward seemed to truly detest the Ministry. Tom often wondered why, since he had never done anything wrong as far as he knew. He eyed Edward's strong back and frowned faintly in thought. "Edward, why exactly did you think I was jesting about you helping me to take the man to the Ministry? It's not as though you have anything to hide from them, right?"

Edward stopped, his head bent forward slightly. "They hounded me when I got here from Germany and never stopped hounding me until they got my sons to join them as Aurors."

"And why would they hound a small alchemist as yourself?" asked Tom lazily.

"Because I have seen the gate of Truth." With that, Edward moved forward once more and hauled Mulciber with him.


	10. Chapter Ten

_**A/N: Alucard is a lite beer. You may snort and snigger now.**_

_**Chapter Ten**_

McGonagall set it up so that Tom and Edward might be able to transport Mulciber out of Hogwarts without having to go the regular visitor route. The Floo Network connected up the fireplace in Dumbledore's office for a span of five hours, so that they might be able to get in and get out quickly. Until then, Tom was keeping Mulciber close at hand, keeping the man locked up in his underground room.

"You really are so much more trouble than you are worth, Mulciber," drawled Tom as he leaned back in his chair, eyeing Mulciber lazily. Mulciber snorted from behind his gag. Tom smirked faintly at his captive; for a moment thinking about perhaps going back to his old habit of playing doctor on a man for entertainment. "You know, I still have some questions I need answered from you, Mulciber. Perhaps you might answer them for me before you have your soul eaten by a dementor."

Mulciber eyed Tom, a mix of fear and resentment evident in his eyes. He was sweating horribly and his skin had grown pale. Tom waved his wand and Mulciber's gag was gone. Mulciber coughed and groaned as he was freed from the gag that kept him from speaking. "Traitor. We did your bidding, we thought you were proud of us and was bringing about the way things should've been. Now look at you, all gentleman-like and whatnot. Even got a human face."

Tom smiled faintly, gazing at Mulciber through dark lashes. "Because I've got everything I've wanted, Mulciber. You and everyone else never mattered to me. I care nothing for you or anyone else. You were sheep."

"We believed in you!" snarled Mulciber.

"Then, you believed in a fairy tale," said Tom, still smiling that cold smile of his. He waved his wand and Mulciber's shirt opened. Tom stood up and picked up what looked like an old medical kit for doctors making house calls. "I think I should enjoy the time we have together, Mulciber. After all, it's been so long since I had something as entertaining as you to play with." At that, Mulciber went white as a sheet and trembled horribly.

"M-m-my Lord! Please!" stammered Mulciber as Tom pulled out a pair of medical gloves and put them on. Tom then pulled out a scalpel and eyed its edge carefully. Mulciber looked as though he had swallowed something awful at that point, trying not to be sick from it.

"All I want to know, Mulciber, are a few things," said Tom calmly, coldly, as he grazed the blade of the knife against Mulciber's chest, "Or, I get to enjoy dissecting you slowly, piece by piece. You see, I can put together a body again, but keeping it alive is another matter altogether. I could just tell the Ministry you hung yourself if I put the appropriate bruising on your neck." Then, Tom's eyes turned red and almost glowed with delight at Mulciber's discomfort.

Mulciber seemed to calm down a bit more now, taking on a bit more of a defiant look to him, though he smelled as though he probably soiled himself just then. "You can't do that if you're tryin' t'go straight an' narrow, my lord," said Mulciber. Tom smirked faintly, making Mulciber feel even more frightened.

"Actually, as I said, I can and I will… should you, of course, not do as I ask," said Tom softly. "I don't like to be kept waiting, so you will answer now, or I'll entertain myself before releasing you to the dementors. After all, either way, you're going to die. Might as well go and lighten the burden on your poor heart before then, right?"

Mulciber went silent for a minute until Tom pressed the knife into his chest and forced the man to yelp out, "All right! I'll talk!"

"Very good, Mulciber," said Tom, smirking faintly. He put the blade down and primly took the gloves off, laying them back in the medical case before closing it. Then, he sat down and crossed his arms in front of his chest. "Well? Aren't you going to ask what it is I wish to know?"

"W-what is it… you wish to know?" stammered Mulciber.

"Sir."

"Sir."

"Very good." Tom smirked even more, causing Mulciber to shrink back a bit more in the chair he was bound to. "Now, tell me, how is it you managed to get that blasted lethifold and how did you get it into the school?"

Mulciber seemed to be trying to think of a response that might get him out of either being dissected by Tom or killed by the Ministry officials. When he seemed to fail at it, he went for broke. "I… had that bloke Donovan get one. H-he was in America for a time… a-and he said he could get me one. I figured that might be a quick way to get rid o' you and not get my hand prints all over it." He gulped and looked away as Tom's eyes seemed to glow once more with an eerie red light to them. "A-a-and… I had 'im take the cage… into the school with his raven. He said the raven did it and went off again, dunno where. I think he went back to America or Ireland and… and then I got news that a girl was attacked instead, not a man, but a man stopped the girl from dying… well.. I had to cover up for m'blunder, right?"

"So, you tried to find a way back in to get at me directly, did you?" asked Tom softly.

"Yeah, b-but… but I didn' know who you were. Honest, m'lord, I didn't! I was only tryin' t'do what was right by you!" said Mulciber. Tom wanted to laugh. The old codger was thinking that he might appeal to Tom's ego to get out of dying or getting his soul sucked out.

"Instead of finding me, you arouse the suspicion of Edward and he chased you out of the school, didn't he? You then had the idea of using him as a ruse to cover for your blunder to make it look like he did it, didn't you," said Tom. "Too bad you couldn't have ever figured on your own Dark Lord figuring it out or even being the traitor you so thought was trying to oust the rest of the death eaters."

At last, it seemed Mulciber was going right back to being the cruel, cold, death eater that Tom had recruited, going silent at Tom's mocking and going still. He was going to die, whether it be by Tom's hands or by dementor hands. Either way, there was no way out and Tom, Lord Voldemort, was notorious about getting joy from the pain of his victims.

"It's too bad, ain' it? That the others couldn't know what was in their leader's head," said Mulciber, glaring at Tom now. He spat at him. Tom simply continued to gaze at him with those red eyes of his, a small smirk still playing across his lips.

"Believe me, Mulciber," said Tom softly, the smile broadening, "they will." With that, Mulciber's blood ran cold in his veins as Tom lifted up the scalpel. He stabbed it into Mucliber's shoulder and twisted it, shoving his fist into his mouth so he couldn't scream or even bite down. A muffled cry was all that Mulciber could manage as Tom leaned closer to his ear. "Now, Mulciber, you are going to finish talking to me or I have to do more to you." He twisted the scalpel again and Mulciber's muffled cry went out again. "Otherwise, my dear friend, you will end up with more places that hurt much worse than this one. Believe me, Mulciber, there are worse things than death."

Tom pulled the scalpel out and wiped it and his hand off with a towel before he sat down once again, Mulciber panting and shaking as blood oozed from his wound. Tom waved his wand and the blood disappeared from Mulciber's shirt, then, he applied a healing potion to the wound with a cloth, holding it there to let it heal.

"Donovan," said Tom finally, "What do you know about him?"

"You," said Mulciber, panting heavily, "You brought 'im in, m'lord. You brought 'im in sayin' that he was to go with you and a few others to find the Potters."

Now Tom remembered. He had walked into Godric's Hollow to find the Potter house. Donovan was there, he was about seventeen years old at the time, as well as a couple of others including Mulciber. The other two were supposed to clear the way for him while Donovan was supposed to watch to learn about what was happening, but the boy ran off before he even got near the house and Hughes Elric. At the time, Tom had thought Donovan had run off because he was scared.

"How did he manage to break you out and why would he?" asked Tom.

"That… that bird o' his appeared at my window and… and then he came an' got me," said Mulciber. Tom applied more healing potion to Mulciber's wound as he nodded for him to continue. "That bird ain' normal, I tell you. He's something other…"

Tom flicked his gaze toward Mulciber, now having gone back to blue he looked more human. That wasn't much of a consolation to Mulciber, however. "A sentient bird that breeds with humans… I'll have to look into that." With that, he stood up and walked away from Mulciber, picking up a pocket watch on the way. It was the same make as Edward's, but dirty and tarnished in some places. "Oh, it looks as though it's time to leave. How awful," said Tom with a sigh. Mulciber relaxed a bit.

Tom turned around and smiled broadly at Mulciber, a cold smile that made him stiffen up again. He lifted his wand and smiled even more, looking more eerie than ever. "Oh well," he said, "I guess it's time for you to forget."

* * *

"Wand, please," said the wizard behind the counter. Tom reluctantly pulled his wand out and handed it to the man. He put it on a scale and something printed out. "Yew, phoenix feather, thirteen and a half inches, right, sir?" asked the wizard.

"Yes, it is," said Tom. The wizard gave him a slip of paper before looking to Edward.

"Wand?" asked the wizard, looking Edward up and down expectantly.

To Tom's surprise, Edward produced a wand from his robes and held it out. It didn't look very well used, however, practically brand new, though there were some nicks in the wood the warm colored wood. The scale printed out the contents of the wand and the wizard read it off. "Mahogany, dragon heartstring, twelve inches, lightly used," said the wizard. He eyed Edward. "Don't use your wand much, do you?"

"No, I'm an alchemist," said Edward, looking very irritated.

Tom eyed him before the man gave Edward the slip of paper as well and sent them through with Mulciber in tow. Tom eyed Edward as they walked on. "An Alchemist is a Wizard, you know. It's just using magic with science rather than wand work."

"I never got used to using the damn thing," said Edward gruffly. "I'll probably never get used to it." Tom smiled faintly for a moment before Edward spoke again. "Why couldn't we have sent for them to come get him?"

"Because, it's far more effective this way," said Tom.

"Effective for what and whom?" asked Edward, glaring at Tom.

"Effective for both of us," said Tom, smirking.

"Tch!" With that, Edward and Tom made their way up to the Auror offices. Mad-Eye Moody was waiting for them, looking very irritated.

"If you wanted to come and turn yourself in, you should've just said so, Riddle," muttered Mad-Eye Moody.

"I brought the convict Mulciber in, Mr. Moody. I do hope you'll entertain him while you deal with him now," said Tom loudly. Moody grunted and looked away, knowing full well that Tom had just pulled everyone's attention. A pair of Aurors appeared and took hold of Mulciber's unconscious form, pulling him away from Tom and Edward. "You know, it would be far more speedy if they would do away with that awful business with the wand checking and the like," said Tom.

"It's necessary to make certain that no intruders come in and try to make a ruckus in the ministry, Mr. Riddle," said Moody.

"Even so, I had a hell of a time getting the man here for you," said Tom, feigning distress. The pair of aurors didn't look the least bit convinced. "Oh all right, don't believe me then."

"Fine, we won't. My boys aren't stupid," said Moody. He grunted at Mulciber and looked him over, that one big, blue, fake eye rolling to look at Tom as he picked at Mulciber. Tom smirked more, still as cold as ever, and waved at him like one would a small child. Moody growled and looked to Tom. "Are you mocking me?"

"Of course, every chance I get," said Tom. Edward rubbed his face and groaned.

"Look, just take him and be done with it. Tom got him, picked him out of Hogsmeade, and brought him back. He practically made it his personal mission to get the bastard for attacking someone at the school," said Edward. He soon realized that he was singing Tom's praises and immediately felt ill. "Never mind. Excuse me!" Then, he ran off to find a bathroom.

Tom stayed put with his hands in his pockets, looking as though he was waiting for an amusement park ride or something. Moody was getting very irritated with Tom and now he was left alone with him while the pair of aurors took Mulciber away. "I see you did a bit of damage to him, Riddle."

Tom smirked even more, a rarity in him that made him look positively frightening. "Indeed I did… would you like to learn what I did from him?"

"Trading in information won't get you any favors, Riddle," growled Moody.

"Oh, well, too bad. I suppose I'll keep them to myself then and use it for my own purposes then." Moody balked somewhat at Tom's response, but wasn't going to play the game Tom seemed to want to play.

"I'm not biting, Riddle," said Moody, "You can do whatever you want with that information, but if I get so much as a word that you're up to your tricks again, be sure that I'll be the first to show up to get a little payback for the damages you've done."

Tom eyed him a moment. "His name is Donovan and he's Irish, that's as far as I know, really," said Tom softly, "Other than that, he was the one that managed to break Mulciber out, though he wouldn't say why or how he knew to break Mulciber out."

"Mmph," grunted Moody as he looked away, thinking, "fine. We'll look up what we can." Then, Moody walked off quickly, or rather, he limped off quickly, as his automail leg hit the ground a lot heavier than his natural one.

When Edward came back, he looked decidedly pale and irritated, wiping his mouth with a gloved hand. "You're an outright bastard, Tom," he grumbled. "Come on, let's get out of here."

"Right you are, Edward," said Tom softly, "A bastard with a mind like a steel trap." He chuckled to himself as he walked off, Edward walking behind him and eyeing him as though perhaps he might try to get rid of Tom himself.


	11. Chapter Eleven

_**A/N: :3 I just discovered a Visual Kei band called Versailles, which has a guy in their group that looks like he's cosplaying as Lestat. . It's in direct competition against some Indie group called Versailles who got bitchy over the Japanese band getting all the searches and they didn't, so they forced copyright on their band name and bitched that VersaillesJP stole their name. **_

_**I'm not joking either. Look at Fandomwank. com to see it. **_

_**Chapter Eleven**_

A lot of time passed since that year. Some students left, others moved up in their years. Muriel Lomeswitch was a third year this year and Bill Weasley moved on to his fifth year. Amber Elric was a whopping four years old and still as small as ever, something that Tom liked to remark about in comparison to her grandfather. "Shut it," grunted Edward, "She's a girl, so she's supposed to be small."

"True," said Tom. He eyed the little girl looking up at him with those gold eyes of hers. He could still see those eyes in the baby that forced him into the gate of Truth. He shuddered slightly and moved away, coughing to cover up the sudden chill up his spine. Edward, however, knew better and smirked a bit.

"You have to watch her tonight, Tom," said Edward, his grin growing wider.

Tom snapped around and glared at Edward. "Pardon? I thought you said I had to watch your little brat tonight."

"I did and she's not a brat… per se," said Edward, glaring back somewhat. "I'm going out with Winry and we would like to be alone. So… YOU get to watch Amber," he said, smiling brightly at Tom.

"And what gives you the right to order me around to watch your granddaughter, Edward?" said Tom coolly.

"Every right," said Edward as he picked up Amber, "Because you're the only one left to watch her!" With a bright smile at him, Tom was landed with holding Amber while Edward merrily walked off whistling. "And make sure you give her a bath!" shouted Edward from over his shoulder before he fully skipped off.

"And that man dares to claim he's too old to do certain things?" Tom snorted and looked to the small girl in his arms, who was playing with his hair. He winced when she pulled a little bit at a lock of his hair and grabbed her hand. "That hurts."

"Sorry, Mr. Riddle," she said. "Mr. Riddle… you have pretty hair."

Tom's brain stopped at the term "pretty" being used to describe his hair. Honestly, he was a very picky fellow when it came to his appearance, preferring to look immaculate and clean. However, he had never had the term "pretty" used to describe any part of him what so ever.

"Thank you… I think." He grunted and looked to Amber Elric for a moment before sighing and walking off with her. "Fine, why don't we go into the forest so I can get some peace?"

Amber smiled at him brightly, looking similar to a female version of Edward. It made Tom want to toss her away from him. "Shrimpa says the forest is a scary place and I'm not allowed to go into it, but grandma says it's okay if someone is with you!"

Tom frowned faintly and grunted, looking away. "Fine, just don't tell your grandfather where you've been. I'd rather not have that little man shouting an unintelligible tirade at me and waste five minutes of my life, nor would I like your grandmother to wield that wrench of hers at me a second time."

Amber giggled and wrapped her small arms around his neck. "Okay."

And so, it went as that. Tom took Amber into the forest, her riding along on his arm and he looking mildly irritated that he had to take care of a child. He didn't like children much, since they often just cried and demanded things of others. In fact, he really just didn't like anyone, honestly. He liked his solitude and saw no purpose in having to socialize when the greater majority of people couldn't even hope to be on par with his own intelligence.

He sat down with Amber on the edge of the forest, choosing not to go too far into the darkness in case various creatures wished to skewer him or slice him to bits. Amber looked around avidly and asked various questions constantly.

"What is this?"

"That's a beetle. Don't touch it."

"It just sprayed something nasty."

"I said don't touch it."

"I didn't!"

"Using a stick to touch it is the same as touching it, Miss Elric."

It went on for ages like that, her asking what something was and Tom answering, then Amber poking it with a stick to make it move and Tom having to tell her to stop poking at it. If it weren't for the fact that he had to keep talking to her, he might have enjoyed having her around, because she did seem to genuinely want to know about the things she was seeing in the forest. That showed she was capable of a lot of intelligence. Now, if only she would stop with poking the various things she was inquiring about with that little stick of hers!

"Mr. Riddle," said Amber after having gone silent for a total of five minutes, "Why aren't you married?"

Tom grunted and looked to Amber. "Precocious little girl, aren't you."

Amber just continued to look up at him. "Shrimpa says it's because you hate everyone."

"I do," said Tom.

"But, you don't hate me, do you?" asked Amber, her eyes growing bigger as she looked up at him.

Tom stared at her for a moment and groaned, rubbing his face before ruffling his black hair. After a while, he gave up and sighed. "No, I don't hate you."

Amber beamed at him. "Good! Because I like Mr. Riddle, too!" she said.

Tom sighed and pulled up one of his knees to rest his arm across. She went about poking at various things again as the light dimmed in the forest; the sun setting with various hues of pink and orange and lilac. Tom pulled out the old, tarnished, silver watch from his pocket and flipped it open to look at the time. Amber looked at it with those big eyes of her and tried to touch it, but Tom moved it away from her small hands.

"Shrimpa has a watch like that!" said Amber excitedly.

"I found it lying about in the dirt," said Tom. "Some time around the time I found your 'shrimpa's' watch is when I found this one."

This was a lie. Tom had found the watch lying about all right, but he had found it lying about where Donovan had been lying when Tom had come back to fetch him along with Mulciber. Unfortunately, that man had disappeared somehow and that raven with him. The watch was something of a curiosity to him. It was unlike anything he had ever seen before, except the one that Edward kept on him all the time. The difference, however, was that Edward's had an inscription on the inside and an inscription on the back. This one only had an inscription on the back of "Flame".

He decided that one day he might inquire to Edward about it, but for the moment he was going to keep it on him. He flipped the watch closed and put it back before standing and picking Amber up. "Time for dinner," he said. Amber smiled brightly at him as he turned and walked toward the castle

Muriel Lomeswitch was running from the hut that Hagrid lived in as quickly as she could. Tom watched her and raised his eyebrows before heading over to catch up with her. Amber blinked and hugged Tom as they made the detour. "Miss Lomeswitch, I presume," he said loudly.

Muriel squeaked and looked around. She was a small, mousy haired girl when she was a first year and now she was a small, even mousier haired girl as a third year. He expected she didn't get many boys clambering after her attention. Though, if he looked at her rightly, she wasn't terrible looking, just fat with long hair the color of a field mouse. When he thought fat, however, one could argue his definition of fat was a bit broad. The girl was developing a bit early with her hips growing a bit wider than the other girls already.

Muriel blushed heavily as she looked down at her feet. "U-um," she started, "I was talking to Mr. Hagrid, sir."

"Well, at least I didn't have to ask you what you were doing. Is this a normal thing for you; to skitter about trying to avoid others?" he asked.

"U-um." She looked around as if for a quick exit. He almost felt sorry for her. "Professor Riddle, I was just talking to Mr. Hagrid about… boys."

"Boys?" Tom was intrigued anyone would think Hagrid was good about giving advice on anything, but most especially on boys.

"Yes, sir," she mumbled. "I.. I wanted to know if it was normal… for boys to pick on me because I…" She looked as though she was having trouble saying what she wanted until she spat out, "I don't look pretty."

"Of course you don't. You're fat and your hair looks like a mouse's, but that doesn't mean you should be asking advice from that weirdy," said Tom. Muriel looked up at Tom finally and she looked crushed. Her pale gray eyes grew watery from tears and her cheeks and nose grew red. "Go along now. Buck up and forget what the boys say if it bothers you."

"I hate you!" she screamed and ran off.

Amber blinked and looked at Tom quizzically. Tom snorted and walked on toward the castle as Muriel ran as fast as she could away from him. When he made it to the teacher's table at dinner, he was greeted by McGonagall slapping him and taking Amber to sit down with.

"Pardon me, Minerva, but I'm taking care of that child, thanks," said Tom, unphased.

"I'll feed her, thank you," said McGonagall swiftly.

Tom snorted and eyed her back for a moment as she attempted to sit with Amber on her lap. "I'm sure she can feed herself now, thanks." McGonagall shot him a sharp look as she went about sitting down again. "Is this about that girl Muriel Lomeswitch?" She shot him a sharp look once more, her cheeks flushed and those dark eyes of hers very angry. "Ah, right on the spot I see."

"You could be more tactful, Tom," she snapped.

He rolled his eyes and took Amber from McGonagall before sitting her down in a chair next to him. Minerva huffed and moved closer to Tom as though to keep an eye on him. "If you're worried I'm going to somehow pass on my own bluntness to this girl, I'm afraid you are entirely too late for that. She gets it entirely from her own grandfather, I assure you."

McGonagall grunted and looked away. "A teacher needs to be more tactful with talking to a student. You're supposed to set an example."

"And I told her the truth. She's fat and mousey and no boy is going to have her unless he's a pervert," said Tom.

"Says you," snapped McGonagall. "And for you information, she is NOT fat. Zelda Jones in Slytherin is FAT. Muriel is an early bloomer."

"Indeed, you seem to have many girls here that could qualify for fat. Are you going to snap and slap me for telling them so every time?" asked Tom, smirking faintly when McGonagall glared at him. "By the time she grows into womanhood, Muriel's ass will be the same width as a car's." He grunted when McGonagall kicked him sharply on the ankle.

"You don't know that, Tom. After all, she is still growing." He snorted and she sighed, rubbing her temples. "Tom, for the sake of my sanity, please do be more tactful when speaking with the children, particularly the girls. I don't wish to have another come to me saying that you told them that they were fat and ugly, especially when they're clearly not and a diet would only make them sick."

"That's because not all of them are as pleasant to look upon and speak to as you are, Minerva," he said, smirking faintly. She huffed and looked away from him. "Fine, I'll not do it again. Will that please you, Minerva?"

McGonagall seemed to consider it a moment before nodding. "All right," she said slowly, "But, I also want you to apologize to Miss Lomeswitch as well as promising that you'll at least keep quiet the next time one of the girls says something about how others are picking on them about their appearance."

"Staying quiet I can do," said Tom. He snorted and went back to eating, putting a hand on Amber's hair and ruffling it a little affectionately. "And I'll apologize… when I feel like it."

McGonagall sighed and shook her head. "Fine, whatever. I'm tired of trying to negotiate with you."

"Same with me," said Tom.

* * *

Bath time was not a pleasant thought. First, it made him feel somewhat odd to have to handle a girl child in the bath. He wasn't her relative in any way, but a teacher who happened to be babysitting her. However, likely dealing with bathing a little girl couldn't possibly be any worse than dealing with a little boy in the bath.

He was wrong.

It started off fine, him drawing a bath for her while she undressed and then he brought out the soap and what not, including what looked like a little rubber duck with a single feather sticking right out of its head and a painted face that looked very irritated. In fact, Tom could safely say the duck reminded him of Edward.

He washed her hair as she played with the duck, giggling as the duck squeaked and bobbed around in the water. Then, she splashed the water really hard just for the fun of it. Tom jumped as he was hit with the splash, giving way to uncontrolled giggling from Amber. Tom sighed and wiped off his face to continue washing her, handing to her a washcloth to wash parts of herself as well while he got her back. Instead, she splashed him again, harder this time.

Tom decided some pay back was in order and splashed Amber back. She simply squealed with delight and started splashing him harder and trying get him as wet as he could possibly ever want. By the time it was over, he was soaked through and looking much like a wet cat while she had finished her bath by herself and climbed out of the tub slowly to get her a towel. This only resulted in her slipping and landing on her butt, however.

As she cried, Tom sighed and made his way over to her, picking her up and wrapping her up in a towel before setting her down in front of his fireplace. "Sit there and dry off. I'll make you some hot chocolate," he said. She sniffled and nodded before he turned and left to do just that. When he came back, she was dry enough, but still wrapped in that wet towel, so he picked out her pajamas and took the towel. "Here. Wear this. It's clean and it's dry, which is more than I can say for this towel."

Amber giggled and nodded before starting to put the pajamas on, with some help from him. She was definitely on the verge of doing things on her own, in his opinion. Soon, she wouldn't need help from anyone to bathe herself, most especially from an old teacher such as him. He gave her the hot chocolate and let her sip it while he sat down beside her. He looked around and summoned a book to his hands that he opened and pointed to a story. "Would you like me to tell you a story?" he asked.

She nodded quickly and he did as he had asked her; reading a story from the book he had summoned, which was a book of old fairy tales complete with the gore still left in them. When he was toward the end of Snow White, he found that Amber was asleep against him. He sighed and put the book down before picking her up and walking out of his chambers and his office toward Edward and Winry's chambers. She clung to him with those little hands of hers gripping tightly to his fresh, dry shirt.

It took a great deal of energy to attempt to pry those little hands from his shirt. He finally decided that if she wasn't going to let go of it, he might as well just lay down with her on Edward and Winry's sofa until they came back to pull her off of him with hopefully more results than he had accomplished.

* * *

Edward glared at Tom. He was sleeping on the couch, lying on his back with Amber sleeping on his chest. Amber had fully dug herself in like a very content house cat and didn't seem too ready to let go of Tom's shirt any time soon.

Winry giggled, trying to hide her smile behind a hand. "Perhaps we should wake him, Ed," she said.

"Damn right we need to wake him," grunted Edward, "He's sleeping with Amber there."

"She's just a little girl, Ed, and you did leave her with him to take care of. There's nothing behind it and if there was, then it wouldn't be you that would hurt the bastard if he had done anything other than what a normal person would with a small child." Edward cringed slightly at Winry and sighed.

"Fine." With that, Edward gently shook Tom's shoulder to wake him. "Riddle. Hey, Riddle. Wake up."

"I'm awake, thank you," said Tom, though he didn't look it. He opened his eyes and he looked very irritated to have been awoken from his precious sleep. "Get her off me. I couldn't put her to bed."

"You did fine, Tom," said Winry, smiling.

Tom rolled his bloodshot eyes and attempted to lift Amber off him. She was still gripping onto his shirt and didn't seem ready to let go. He sighed and looked to a rather amused Edward and Winry. "Don't just sit there sniggering at me," he snapped, "Get her off."

The combined efforts of Tom, Edward and Winry didn't seem able to pry the small hands of Amber off of Tom's shirt. He finally just decided to that off his shirt and let the girl have it, standing shirtless in Edward and Winry's sitting room.

"We'll get it to you in the morning," said Winry, smiling at him. He snorted and shook his head, heading for the door.

"Let her keep it. I can get another. I don't care," he said and walked out.

Edward grunted and rolled his eyes before looking to Amber asleep inside Tom's shirt like it was a blanket. "Hopefully she'll grow out of that."

"Ed," said Winry. She sighed and put a hand on his shoulder and kissed him on his cheek. "Come on. Let's put her to bed and go to bed ourselves." Then, she winked at him before heading over to Amber and picking her up, walking off with a little wiggle of her hips at Edward and disappearing quickly into the room that they gave Amber. Edward smirked and laughed a little to himself before following.

"Ready or not, here I come," he said.


End file.
